s> 

\s<Z 


THE    SAME    AUTHOR. 


AN   AMERICAN    GIRL    ABROAD. 

i6mo.    Cloth.    Illustrated.    $1.50. 


KATHERINE    E  A  R  L.  E. 

izmo.     Qoth.    Illustrated.    $1.50. 


LEE  &  SHEPARD,  PUBLISHERS,  BOSTON. 


HIS    INHERITANCE. 


BY 


ADELINE    TRAFTON, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD,"  "  KATHERINE  EARLE,"  &c. 


BOSTON: 
LEE    AND    SHEPARD,    PUBLISHERS. 

NEW  YORK: 

CHARLES    T.    DILLINGHAM. 
1878. 


COPYRIGHT,  1878, 
Bv  LEE  AND  SHEPARD. 

All  Rights  Reserved. 


Franklin  Press: 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by 

Rand,  Avery,  <&»  Co., 

Boston. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  1-AOE 

I.  BLOSSOM 7 

IE.  TOWABD  THE  SETTING  SUN 20 

III.  "You  GAVE  MY  LITTLE  GAL  A  PRECIOUS  SCARE,"  34 

IV.  "  I'LL    BE    THE    FIRST     TO    MEET    YOU    WHEN     YOU 

COME  IN"                48 

V.  "A  GIRL!    WHO  WOULD  HAVE  THOUGHT  IT?"       .  59 

VI.  COMING  HOME '68 

VII.  THE  HOUSE  WITH  DEATH  IN  IT 81 

VIII.  A  NEW  LIFE 95 

IX.  BLOSSOM'S  VISITOR 107 

X.  THE  COUSIN  ON  THE  JERSEY  SHORE  .       .       .       .114 

XL  A  GAME  OF  CARDS 129 

XII.  DID  HE  SAY  HE  SHOULD  COME  AGAIN?     .       .       .  146 

XIII.  "Tuo'  FATHER  AN'  HITHER  AN'  A'  SHOULD  GAE 

MAD" 160 

XIV.  THE  BALL 178 

XV.  THE  RESCUE 189 

XVI.  SKIRMISHES 196 

XVII.  "ARE  THESE  TEARS  FOR  ME?"         ....  208 

XVIII.  CLAUDIA'S  SONG 218 

XIX.  DREAMS 227 

XX.  WHEN  THE  SUN  SHINES  ON  THE  MIST        .       .       .  238 

XXI.  ORDERED  AWAY 246 

XXII.  THROUGH  THE  WILDERNESS 258 

XXIII.  THE  BORDERS  OF  AN  INVISIBLE  LAND      .       .       .271 

XXIV.  HOME  AGAIN 280 

XXV.  "GOING  TO  LEAVE  us?" 291 

XXVI.  "WHY,  MAN,  THE  MAIL'S  IN!" 307 


r> 


2229452 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXVEL  THE  CITY  WITH  A  PAST 313 

XXVIII.  OLD  JEREMY'S  NIECE 323 

XXIX.  THE  HEIR 332 

XXX.  A  STRANGE  FAMILY 343 

XXXL  THE  LUNCH-PARTY 357 

XXXII.  A  VISITOR  AT  THE  BROCK  HOUSE        .        .        .  365 

XXXIII.  "SHE'S  NOT  GOING  TO  BE  WORSE!"     .        .        .375 

XXXIV.  "DEAR  CHILD,  YOU  FORGOT  TO  TELL  HIS  NAME,"  384 
XXXV.  "YouB    COUSIN'S    WIFE!     CAPTAIN    ELYOT'S 

WIFE!" 390 

XXXVI.  "AND   NOW  WILL  YOU  NOT  SEND  FOR  COUSIN 

ROBERT  ?  " 400 

XXXVII.  WATTING 411 

XXXVIII.  COMPENSATION  .                                                    .  421 


HIS    INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

BLOSSOM. 

IT  is  November  of  185-,  and  Blossom  is  going  back 
across  the   plains  to  her  home.     Seventeen  j^ears 
before,  a  baby  had  been  born,  within  a  rude  fort  upon 
the  Arkansas  River,  to  the  post-sutler  Stubbs  and  his 
wife ;  and  this  baby  was  Blossom. 

It  is  but  just  to  say,  that,  earlier  in  life,  this  man 
Stubbs,  had  borne  another  name,  which  had  been  lost, 
beyond  finding  again,  somewhere  in  the  Western  wilder- 
ness ;  or,  to  be  exact,  his  odd,  stunted  figure  had  won  for 
him  this  sobriquet,  before  which  his  rightful  cognomen 
burned  dimly  for  a  while,  and  finally  went  out  altogether. 
He  had  resigned  his  name  without  much  of  an  effort 
to  retain  it,  thereby  showing  little  of  pride  or  spirit.  But 
rights  of  any  kind  were  held  here  only  at  the  muzzle  of 
a  revolver,  and  had  been  gradually  narrowed  down,  until 
they  involved  little  more  than  life  and  liberty :  to  con- 
tend for  any  thing  less  was  hardly  worth  the  powder. 
And  then  one  name  was  as  good  as  another,  or  even 
better  if  it  carried  an  idea,  which  Stubbs  certainly 

7 


8  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

did.  The  early  trappers  and  traders  of  the  Far  West 
were  not  given  to  much  speaking.  Each  brief  word 
was  suggestive ;  and  the  names,  bestowed  in  praise  or 
derision,  were  mostly  biographies  in  miniature.  Some- 
times they  were  but  personally  descriptive,  — as  in  this 
case,  —  or  they  were  made  to  serve  as  a  perpetual  ex- 
clamation-point after  a  man. 

But,  however  expressive  such  titles  may  be  when 
applied  to  one  individual,  they  become  incongruous, 
not  to  say  absurd,  when  made  to  include  a  family. 
What  could  be  more  appropriate,  more  sharply  descrip- 
tive of  the  broad-shouldered,  serene-faced,  stumpy  little 
man  who  bore  it,  than  the  name  of  Stubbs  ?  But  it  was 
a  grim  sarcasm  upon  the  woman  who  had  shared  his 
quarters  for  a  dozen  years  before  the  baby's  eyes  opened 
upon  them. 

She  was  tall ;  she  was  gaunt  as  a  gray  wolf  in  winter. 
She  was  strong  of  arm  and  stout  of  nerve,  with  a  talent 
for  devising,  and  a  will  for  executing,  almost  any  work. 
She  could  serve  a  dinner  to  a  tolerably  straitened  garri- 
son that  would  tempt  a  king ;  or  she  could  steady  a  rifle, 
and  drop  a  red-skin  if  need  be  at  three  hundred  yards. 
There  was  even  a  rough  kind  of  femininity  about  the 
woman,  who  was  by  no  means  disagreeable  to  look  at, 
with  her  bright  black  eyes,  and  her  brown  cheeks  show- 
ing a  subdued  flame.  She  had  been  known  more  than 
once  to  nurse  a  wounded  man  back  to  life  when  the 
surgeons  had  given  him  up,  with  just  scolding  enough, 
it  must  be  owned,  to  spur  him  on  to  convalescence.  Add 
to  these  the  aggressive  qualities  of  thrift  and  neatness, 
and  we  shall  have  a  perfect  character,  you  will  say. 
Oh,  no !  Do  you  fancy  that  all  the  natural  graces  as 
well  as  the  Christian  virtues  are  to  be  found  -in  one 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  9 

individual  ?  She  was  envious.  But  that  is  not  so  rare 
a  fault  that  it  need  be  dwelt  upon.  She  was  crafty 
and  unscrupulous.  But  the  first  she  concealed  by  the 
second ;  and  the  third,  in  tending  upon  the  other  two, 
kept  in  the  background.  And  then  she  was  comely  to 
look  at  (and  that  is  a  better  cloak  than  charity  even), 
with  her  sleek  black  hair,  and  the  fresh  color  just  dead- 
ened by  the  tan  on  her  cheeks,  —  comely  to  look  at,  if 
one  could  forget  the  embers  in  her  eyes,  which  a  gust 
of  passion  might  blow  into  a  blaze.  After  all,  it  was  a 
kind  of  beauty  which  a  man  might  like  to  look  upon, 
but  would  hardly  covet  for  his  own. 

As  for  her  thrift  and  neatness,  the  sutler's  quarters 
showed  the  effect  of  these  good  qualities,  which  were 
a  kind  of  stockade  about  the  real  woman.  Her  home 
was  tidy  and  inviting,  or  would  have  been,  but  that  the 
tidiness  became  tyrannical  at  times.  Gradually  a  kind 
of  cabaret  of  a  most  respectable  pattern  was  established 
here,  where  the  officers  dropped  in  of  an  evening  to 
order  a  bit  of  supper,  which  the  mistress  of  the  house 
was  not  above  cooking  with  her  own  hands.  A  well- 
thumbed  pack  of  cards  was  brought  into  requisition 
while  waiting  for  this  to  be  served ;  and  rumor  did  say 
that  many  a  pile  of  government  gold  changed  hands 
over  the  table  here.  But  rumor  is  always  malicious, 
and  this  may  or  may  not  have  been  true.  Drinking 
there  certainly  was,  ,but  no  brawling  over  the  cards 
or  wine,  or  the  friendly  pipe  with  Stubbs  himself,  who 
was  a  quiet,  shrewd  man,  an  excellent  listener  at  all 
times ;  and  what  could  be  more  desirable  in  a  compan- 
ion ?  He  could  even  tell  a  story  of  his  own  when  Mrs. 
Stubbs  was  not  by ;  for  the  post-sutler  stood  some- 
what in  awe  of  his  energetic  helpmeet.  There  was  not 


10  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

her  equal  this  side  the  Rocky  Mountains,  he  often 
declared ;  and  as  this  assertion  included  not  only  the 
plains,  but  that  mystical  region  "  the  States,"  it  was  a 
rare  compliment  indeed.  Still  it  must  be  owned  that 
she  was  a  kind  of  moral  car  of  Juggernaut  to  the  man ; 
and  not  to  Stubbs  alone,  but  to  all  the  frequenters  of 
the  house,  not  one  of  whom  would  have  dared  offer  any 
thing  but  the  most  exaggerated  respect  to  its  mistress. 
In  her  own  domain  she  ruled  a  queen.  She  served,  it 
is  true,  but  by  favor ;  and  woe  to  any  man  who  forgot 
what  was  due  from  a  guest  to  Ms  hostess !  for  a  warm 
corner  in  the  little  family-room  was  not  to  be  despised 
of  a  winter  night,  when  the  snow  covered  them  in,  and 
the  wind  howled  a  dismal  chorus  outside,  while  the  rusty 
stove  at  the  officers'  quarters  gave  out  smoke  without 
heat. 

Here  the  fire  was  always  bright,  with  an  apple  or  two 
puffing  and  spitting  steam  before  it,  or  the  red-hot  poker 
innocently  but  significantly  blinking  among  the  coals. 
The  rough  plastered  walls  were  covered  with  prints 
which  Stubbs  had  found  in  trading-expeditions  to  the 
States,  or  Mrs.  Stubbs  had  scissored  thriftily  from  illus- 
trated journals,  and  were  volumes  in  themselves  of 
history,  biography,  and  travel.  But,  since  the  titles 
had  been  mostly  sacrificed  to  space,  there  was  a  tanta- 
lizing indefiriiteness  about  the  whole,  which  possibly 
enhanced  its  interest.  A  Mexican  blanket  covered  the 
centre  of  the  floor  upon  extraordinary  occasions,  with 
rude  skins  spread  here  and  there  for  softer  comfort. 
Scant  curtains  of  red  moreen  hid  the  tiny  windows, 
and  gave  color  to  the  place';  while  the  furniture  was 
made  up  of  odd  pieces  brought  by  the  sutler  at  various 
times  from  Independence, — that  outpost  of  civilization 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  11 

at  this  time.  It  had  been  chosen  with  an  eye  for  but 
one  quality,  —  durability ;  and  even  this  had  required 
an  eye  of  faith.  But  its  "exceeding  lastingness,"  like 
that  in  Kalander's  house,  had  almost  made  it  appear  by 
this  time  exceeding  beautiful.  Comfortable  it  was,  at 
least. 

And  this  was  the  home  into  which,  after  a  dozen 
childless  years  spent  in  as  many  rough,  rude  places,  the 
baby  came  to  the  post-sutler  Stubbs  and  his  wife. 

It  was  an  event  to  stir  the  foundations  of  their  world ; 
but  it  brought  little  change.  Sergeant  Duckling  im- 
provised a  cradle  from  the  half  of  an  old  Hour-barrel, 
which  Mrs.  Stubbs  covered  with  gay-flowered  chintz 
ferreted  from  Stubbs's  stock  of  unsalable  wares,  and  set 
up  in  a  corner  seemingly  devised  expressly  for  it.  To 
be  sure,  the  pipes  were  banished  now  to  the  adjoining 
store ;  but  the  baby  more  than  made  up  for  any  such 
deficiency.  It  was  passed  from  hand  to  hand,  and  tossed 
and  dandled  in  air  in  a  way  that  would  have  agonized 
a  less  courageous  mother.  But  Mrs.  Stubbs  bore  it  all 
with  the  equanimity  of  pride  and  ignorance.  And  the 
child  laughed  and  crowed  its  delight  at  the  involuntary 
gymnastics  it  was  made  to  perform  in  the  arms  of  its 
rough  friends.  A  pale,  delicate  little  flower  was  this 
which  had  blossomed  upon  Mrs.  Stubbs's  bosom.  The 
ways  of  Providence  are  indeed  past  finding  out.  A 
wolfs  cub,  a  young  coyote,  would  have  been  more  akin 
to  the  woman.  But  no  :  wolf-cubs  are  born  into  sheep- 
folds,  and  lambs  lie  down  by  lions,  and  no  one  knows 
the  reason  why.  Still,  something  of  softening  did  come 
to  her  with  motherhood,  as  well  as  a  deeper  craft  and 
a  more  grasping  ambition.  The  one  growing  purpose 
of  her  life  had  been  to  push  Stubbs  on  in  the  world, 


12  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

where,  or  toward  what  end,  she  hardly  knew.  They 
had  schemed  and  worked  and  hoarded, — the  man,  at 
least,  honestly  enough,  —  until  they  had  become  rich, 
— rich  even  for  "  the  settlements,"  where  Mrs.  Stubbs's 
eyes  and  desires  were  wont  to  turn.  But  now,  what 
would  she  not  do  for  the  child !  There  was  no  limit 
to  her  desires,  or  to  the  vague  visions  over  that  rude 
cradle. 

But  no  ambitious  dreams  disturbed  the  father.  There 
is  a  vein  of  poetry  in  the  nature  of  every  man ;  and  the 
coming  of  the  baby  was  like  sinking  a  shaft  into  Stubbs's 
soul,  though  very  little  of  the  precious  ore  ever  came 
to  the  surface  —  a  few  trifling  specimens  only  —  to  show 
the  richness  of  the  lode.  He  was  by  no  means  a  godly 
man  ;  but,  cradling  the  child  in  his  arms,  he  would  croon 
over  her  hour  after  hour,  not  the  rollicking  songs  of  a 
camp,  but  quaint,  awful  hymns,  enough  to  strike  terror 
to  the  heart  of  an  ordinary  individual,  and  picked  up  no 
one  knew  where. 

"  Great  spoils  I  shall  win 
From  death,  hell,  and  sin," 

sang  the  father  in  a  hoarse,  broken  voice,  and  with  many 
a  twist  and  turn  to  the  weird  air. 

The  child  looked  up  into  his  face,  and  smiled  her 
contentment.  What  were  death,  hell,  and  sin  to  her 
happy  babyhood !  It  was  he  who  first  called  her  Blos- 
som ;  and  a  frail  little  blossom  she  was,  with  her  white 
face,  her  solemn  brown  eyes,  and  her  hair  like  the  fluff 
on  the  dandelions  in  summer-time.  And  Blossom  she 
came  to  be  to  all  the  garrison, — from  the  stern  colonel 
in  command,  down  to  little  Bob  White,  who  made  .the  last 
in  the  line  on  dress-parade.  Not  that  this  was  her  bap- 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  13 

tismal  name  ;  for  christened  she  was  one  sabbath  after- 
noon in  summer,  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  garrison, 
through  the  zeal  of  the  new  chaplain  it  must  be  owned, 
rather  than  from  any  desire  of  her  parents.  The  poor 
man  had  but  scant  opportunity  for  wearing  his  bands, 
or  performing  the  rites  of  his  church  here,  and  could 
not  allow  such  an  one  as  this  to  go  by  unimproved. 
The  child  looked  gravely,  but  without  fear,  upon  the 
assembled  company,  until  she  caught  sight  of  Sergeant 
Duckling's  good-natured  face,  when  she  broke  into  an 
irreverent,  gurgling  laugh,  ending  in  a  most  uncompro- 
mising crow,  greatly  to  the  embarrassment  of  the  chap- 
lain, who  was  young  and  unmarried.  The  colonel  tried 
to  frown  down  the  smile  awakened  by  this  undignified 
conduct  of  the  candidate ;  but  there  was  a  twinkle  in 
his  own  eye.  Dear  me  !  Had  he  not  dandled  the  child 
in  his  own  arms  by  the  hour,  when  his  wife  had  bor- 
rowed her  for  the  afternoon  ? 

"Name  this  child,"  said  the  chaplain  hastily. 

He  was  alarmed  for  his  own  dignity  and  the  solem- 
nity of  the  service  he  had  inaugurated. 

Mrs.  Stubbs  stood  like  a  drum-major  by  her  husband's 
side,  gorgeous  in  a  new  pink  bonnet  fashioned  directly 
after  that  of  the  colonel's  wife.  She  gave  him  a  nudge 
with  her  elbow  to  remind  him  to  speak  up  promptly, 
which  only  served  to  rout  every  idea  from  poor  Stubbs 's 
mind.  It  was  only  when  this  domestic  spur  had  been 
applied  the  second  time  that  he  succeeded  in  stammer- 
ing out  a  name  which  nobody  could  understand.  The 
chaplain,  however,  took  it  up,  and  repeated  it  in  a  sono- 
rous voice.  To  tell  the  truth,  he  had  it  upon  a  bit  of 
paper  in  his  hand  all  the  time.  The  asking  was  but  a 
form. 


14  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

It  was  his  mother's  name  over  which  Stubbs  had 
stammered.  It  had  not  been  uttered  for  many  a  long 
year ;  nor  was  it  embarrassment  alone  that  brought  the 
quaver  to  his  voice  as  he  pronounced  it.  The  water 
dropped  upon  the  child's  wondering  face,  the  last 
prayer  was  uttered,  the  last  amen  pronounced,  the 
band  struck  up,  the  company  dispersed,  and  little 
Blossom  was  made  a  Christian. 

Not  that  she  had  been  so  great  a  sinner  before.  She 
was  a  gentle  child  from  her  birth ;  and  the  "  old  Adam," 
whom  the  chaplain  had  prayed  that  her  heart  might  be 
rid  of,  seemed  hardly  to  have  taken  a  lodgement  there. 
Her  pretty  ways  had  made  her  the  pet  of  the  garrison. 
Never  a  week  passed,  that  Orderly  Sims  did  not  appear 
with  the  compliments  of  the  colonel's  lady,  and  begging 
the  loan  of  Miss  Blossom  for  the  day.  From  these  visits 
she  returned,  decked  out  like  a  queen  barbaric,  and  laden 
with  spoils.  Even  the  Indians  hanging  about  the  post 
awakened  to  something  like  interest  at  sight  of  the  white 
pappoose.  Their  tawny  faces  had  no  terror  for  the  child ; 
and,  when  she  arrived  at  the  dignity  of  standing  upon 
her  feet,  the  gentle  young  tyrant  refused  any  covering 
for  those  dimpled  members,  but  the  softest  of  deer-skin 
moccasons,  braided  and  fringed  and  beaded  after  the 
pattern  of  the  ones  worn  by  her  dusky  friends.  But,  if 
these  were  her  friends,  Bob  White  was  her  slave.  He 
it  was  who  carved  a  misshapen  piece  of  anatomy, 
which  he  called  a  doll,  for  Blossom's  delight,  and  which 
became  her  greatest  treasure. 

And  so  the  years  slipped  by,  but  not  without  seasons 
of  bitter  pain.  More  than  once  were  her  friends  ordered 
away,  not  to  return,  and  Blossom's  tender  heart  was 
broken  in  the  parting.  Even  Bob  White's  turn  came 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  15 

at  last ;  and  he  marched  out  of  the  gate  with  his  com- 
pany, his  boyish  heart  heavier  than  the  knapsack  on  his 
shoulders.  He  had  sat  up  half  the  night  to  cut  out  a 
rude  figure  of  a  horse  as  a  parting-present  for  Blossom. 
It  was  a  pitiful  creature,  if  the  truth  be  told.  Endowed 
with  life,  it  would  have  found  locomotion  impossible, 
from  the  difference  in  the  length  of  its  legs,  if  nothing 
more,  and  would  have  been  shot,  in  mercy,  no  doubt. 
But  Blossom  wept  fond,  bitter  tears  over  it  (Bob  had 
baptized  it  already  with  his  own),  and  hid  it  under  her 
pillow  at  night,  refusing  to  be  comforted  for  the  loss  of 
her  friend. 

"  Why  did  he  go  away  ?  "  she  asked  of  her  mother. 

"  Because  he  had  to,"  was  the  not  very  satisfactory 
response. 

"  Why  did  he  had  to  ?  " 

"  He  must  go  with  the  rest.  Somebody  else'll  come," 
Mrs.  Stubbs  added,  with  a  clumsy  attempt  at  comfort- 
ing, —  "  somebody  you'll  like  a  deal  better." 

The  child  regarded  her  with  grave  eyes.  All  language 
beyond  the  simplest  was  a  foreign  tongue  to  her  as  yet. 
She  did  not  take  in  its  meaning  readily.  Then,  all  at 
once,  she  broke  into  an  astonished  burst  of  tears. 

"  But  Jwant  Bob  White  !  "  she  said. 

She  had  not  yet  learned  the  hard  lesson,  to  take  what 
one  can  get,  and  be  thankful  and  quiet :  so  she  sobbed 
herself  to  sleep,  poor  little  Blossom ! 

As  she  grew  older,  the  ladies  at  the  post  taught  her 
to  read  and  to  sew,  in  neither  of  which  not  uncommon 
accomplishments  Madam  Stubbs  excelled.  Blossom 
conquered  her  letters  without  much  difficulty,  and 
pricked  her  way  along  the  path  of  needlework  hardly 
less  slowly.  There  was  a  natural  refinement  about  the 


16  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

child,  which  these  gentle  associations  had  nourished ;  and 
it  was  not  book-learning  or  fine  sewing  alone  the  little 
maiden  was  gaining  day  after  day,  the  mother  saw,  with 
uneasy  pride  and  a  twinge  of  jealousy.  Were  they  not 
drawing  the  child  away  from  her  ?  And  yet  she  looked 
with  admiration  upon  the  growing  accomplishments  of 
the  girl,  and  the  gentle  ways  which  came  to  her  as  by 
right  of  birth ;  while  between  Blossom  and  her  father 
there  was  neither  misgiving  nor  fear,  but  a  sympathy 
which  needed  not  the  expression  of  words,  though  they 
talked  together  often  by  the  hour,  cheek  to  cheek,  under 
the  stars  or  in  the  dim  firelight. 

"  Father,  what  are  the  stars  ?  "  she  asked  one  night, 
when,  held  in  his  arms,  she  had  pulled  aside  the  little 
red  curtain  before  the  window. 

"  Them's  worlds,  Blossom,  —  as  big  or  bigger'n  this,  I 
reckon." 

"  Oh,  no,  father ! "  the  child  replied,  with  a  grave 
shake  of  the  head.  "  They're  too  little.  And  you 
shouldn't  tell  such  stories  to  Blossom,"  she  added  reprov- 
ingly, quoting  a  caution  she  had  overheard  from  the  lips 
of  the  colonel's  lady  the  day  before,  "  because  she  might 
believe  'em." 

"  Then  they're  eyes,"  said  Stubbs,  who  would  have 
named  them  any  thing  to  please  the  child.  He  took 
the  reproof  as  gravely  as  it  was  given.  "  That's  what 
they  are,  Blossom :  they're  good  folks's  eyes,  —  up  in 
heaven." 

"Yes,"  said  the  child,  entirely  satisfied,  "they're 
eyes  ;  and  they  always  look  at  Blossom." 

He  taught  her  something  of  arithmetic,  and  even 
ferreted  a  geography  from  his  stores,  over  which"  he  was 
hardly  less  mystified  than  she.  To  crown  all,  he  was 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  17 

discovered  one  day  poring  over  an  old  grammar,  his 
sleeves  rolled  up,  and  his  shirt-collar  unbuttoned. 

"  It's  for  the  little  un,"  he  said,  shutting  the  book 
up  in  confusion.  "  I  thought  as  how  she  might  come 
to  it  by  an'  by." 

It  was  told  as  a  great  joke  that  Stubbs  had  begun  the 
study  of  grammar ;  and  many  were  the  thrusts  at  him  in 
consequence,  which  he  turned  off  good-naturedly.  But 
a  great  trouble  was  beginning  to  gather  in  his  heart. 
He  had  learned  something,  if  not  grammar,  from  the 
volume  he  could  not  master ;  and  this  was,  that  Blos- 
som must  go  away.  The  wife  of  the  commanding  officer 
had  spoken  to  him  about  it  before  now.  Her  own 
daughters  were  in  the  States  at  school,  and  Blossom 
must  go :  he  could  not  teach  her.  He  acknowledged  it 
to  himself  at  last ;  and  the  gentle,  pretty  little  creature, 
with  her  refined  ways  and  her  warm  heart,  must  not  be 
left  to  grow  up  in  ignorance.  The  colonel's  wife  put  it 
to  him  in  this  way ;  but  he  knew  it  before  she  spoke : 
it  had  been  growing  upon  him  day  by  day,  like  a  heavy 
burden.  It  was  very  kind  in  the  wife  of  the  command- 
ing officer  to  take  such  an  interest  in  a  child  who  was, 
after  all,  only  the  post-sutler's  daughter.  She  did  not, 
indeed,  suggest  the  fashionable  establishment  where  her 
own  daughters  were  fitting  themselves  for  an  elegant 
and  rather  mild  struggle  with  life ;  but  she  did  what 
was  better  for  the  child,  —  she  recommended  an  old 
schoolmate  of  her  own,  now  in  straitened  circum- 
stances, who  would  perhaps,  for  a  consideration,  take 
charge  of  Blossom,  and  superintend  her  education  for  a 
term  of  years.  She  even  wrote  and  arranged  the  whole 
matter,  with  Stubbs's  sanction.  And  so  it  cume  about 
that  Blossom  left  hqjne  ;  though  how  it  came  about,  and 


18  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

through  what  agony  of  parting,  we  need  say  nothing 
here.  Hearts  bleed  and  heal  again,  or  learn  to  cover 
their  wounds,  and  the  world  goes  on.  And  people  who 
are  neither  cultured,  nor  hardly  civilized,  as  we  reckon 
such  things,  forget  themselves  in  the  good  of  others, 
and  give  up  their  own  out  of  their  arms,  if,  by  so  doing, 
a  blessing  may  but  come  to  them. 

Already  a  dream  of  making  a  lady  of  her  daughter 
had  taken  possession  of  Mrs.  Stubbs.  It  reconciled  her, 
in  a  measure,  to  parting  with  Blossom.  But  no  such 
vision  consoled  the  father.  In  some  way,  which  he 
scarcely  understood,  it  was  to  be  a  gain  to  the  child : 
that  was  all.  So  he  made  the  long  journey  over  the 
trail  to  Independence  with  her,  and  from  there  to  the 
town  where  she  was  to  be  left.  Something  in  the  face 
of  the  woman  to  whom  she  was  to  be  intrusted  pleased 
the  father,  when  they  had  found  her  at  last ;  and  he  left 
the  child  with  a  sense  of  security  which  did  much  to 
comfort  him,  though  with  ill-concealed  grief  over  the 
parting.  "  Bring  her  up  to  be  a  straight  kind  of  a  gal," 
he  said.  Then  he  kissed  Blossom  good-by,  and  turned 
his  face  back  toward  the  wilderness  indeed  I 

Once  a  year,  from  this  time,  he  visited  her,  affecting 
to  examine  into  the  progress  she  had  made  in  her  studies, 
with  an  inward  wonderment,  but  an  outward  composure, 
which  quite  deceived  the  girl,  who  believed  that  he  knew 
it  all.  Even  when  she  learned  otherwise,  she  kept  that 
knowledge  to  herself,  for  love  of  him.  But  after  these 
visits,  which  his  wife  seldom  shared,  a  strange  restless- 
ness took  possession  of  the  man  for  a  time.  "  I  reckon 
by  another  year  we  shall  sell  out,  and  shift  to  the  States, 
—  by  spring,  most  likely,"  he  would  say,  until  it  came 
to  be  a  proverb  at  the  post  (where  Blossom  had  grown 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  19 

to  be  a  myth,  as  her  old  friends  were  ordered  away,  and 
replaced  by  men  who  had  never  known  her)  ;  so  that, 
when  any  thing  was  particularly  uncertain,  its  time  was 
fixed  at  the  day  "  when  Stubbs  sells  out,  and  shifts  to 
the  States." 

And  now  to  return  to  the  beginning  of  the  chapter  : 
Blossom,  aged  seventeen,  her  education  at  last  com- 
pleted, was  going  back  to  her  home. 


20  HIS  INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  II. 

• 

TOWARD  THE  SETTING  SUN. 

ALONG  train  of  covered  wagons  is  slowly  drag- 
ging itself  westward  across  the  plains,  along  the 
valley  of  the  Arkansas  River,  winding  in  and  out  among 
the  hillocks  which  mark  the  surface,  and  hugging  the 
ground  as  it  crawls  on  like  some  huge  white  serpent 
upon  the  scorched  grass. 

It  lacks  hardly  an  hour  of  sunset,  and  they  have  been 
upon  the  move  since  daylight,  with  but  a  short  halt  at 
noon ;  yet  the  drivers  urge  on  the  weary  creatures  that 
pull  the  laden  wagons.  They  have  left  the  river  at  a 
point  where  the  trail  divides  to  form  a  bow.  The  arc 
follows  the  windings  of  the  stream ;  while  the  string, 
which  they  pursue,  leads  through  a  more  barren  region, 
—  a  valley  where,  at  this  season  (the  middle  of  Novem- 
ber), nothing  meets  the  eye  but  the  lowering  sky  over- 
head, and  the  rolling  land  beneath  it  covered  with 
blackened,  scrubby  buffalo-grass.  Through  all  the  long 
day  they  have  been  shut  into  this  valley  of  desolation, 
spurring  on  the  exhausted  animals,  and  choosing  this 
route,  though  it  leads  away  from  wood  and  water,  in 
order,  if  possible,  to  shorten  the  distance  to  Fort  Atchi- 
son.  Rumors  reached  them,  before  setting  out  from 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  21 

Independence,  that  the  Santa  Fe*  trail  was  infested  by 
hostile  Indians  ;  but,  so  far,  they  have  been  unmolested. 
Last  night,  however,  the  smoke  of  numerous  camp-fires 
off  in  the  south-west  excited  their  alarm ;  a  false  one, 
perhaps,  since  they  may  have  risen  from  some  camp 
peaceably  disposed,  moving  south  to  winter-quarters. 
If  they  had  been  well  guarded,  or  unhampered  by  these 
heavy  wagons,  the  dozen  irresponsible  men  of  the  party 
might  have  pushed  on  at  a  faster  pace  to  the  fort ;  but 
with  a  force  of  scarce  thirty  men,  picked  up  by  chance 
at  the  last  moment,  discretion  was  better  than  foolhardy 
haste.  Another  day  will  bring  them  to  the  river  again, 
if  no  ill  chance  befall  them;  and  the  setting  of  another 
sun  to  Fort  Atchison,  the  destination  of  the  larger  part 
of  the  train.  As  for  the  remainder  of  the  wagons, 
which  are  to  go  on  to  Santa  F6*  even,  an  additional 
force  can  be  procured  at  the  fort  to  guard  their  passage, 
if  necessary. 

The  wagons  creak  on  heavily  as  the  sun  slowly 
moves  toward  its  setting,  and  the  cold  of  a  November 
night  begins  to  settle  down  upon  the  weary  company. 
Every  thing  like  song  or  story  has  long  since  died 
among  them.  A  muttered  oath  at  the  oxen  or  mules,  a 
muttered  complaint  disguised  in  a  curse,  are  the  only  ex- 
pressions left ;  and  these  grow  stronger  by  condensation 
as  the  weary  miles  stretch  out  under  their  heavy  feet. 
Suddenly,  as  they  gaze  with  dull  eyes  upon  the  distance, 
which  tempts  with  no  change  from  the  monotonous 
landscape  about  them,  a  faint  puff  of  dust  rises,  grows, 
spreads,  rolls  into  a  cloud  against  the  reddening  hori- 
zon, —  a  revolving  yellow  cloud,  —  from  which  are  pres- 
ently projected  two  mounted  figures  tearing  down  the 
trail  to  meet  them.  The  wagons  are  hastily  drawn  into 


22  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

a  double  line,  with  the  cavalry  on  either  side ;  but 
scarcely  is  this  accomplished,  when,  the  cloud  having 
cleared  behind  the  advancing  riders,  they  discover  that 
their  foes  —  if  foes  they  are  —  number  but  these  two 
men  ;  and  in  a  moment  more  they  recognize  the  black, 
flying  locks,  and  even  the  gaudily-fringed  buckskins,  of 
Tony  Baird,  the  half-breed  scout,  who,  with  a  compan- 
ion of  his  own  profession,  has  been  out  since  daylight. 

The  strain  of  anxious  expectation,  and  the  prepara- 
tions for  defence,  give  place  to  the  most  heedless  curi- 
osity ;  for  only  in  moments  of  actual  danger  is  there 
any  thing  like  discipline  in  the  loose-bound  company. 
Every  man  rushes  to  the  front  to  hear  the  news,  the 
teamsters  abandoning  their  wagons,  and  even  pressing 
before  stout,  purple-faced  Captain  Luttrell,  who  com- 
mands the  escort.  One  of  these,  whose  face  shows  the 
delicate  coloring,  and  suggests  the  texture,  of  an  ox- 
hide, is  the  first  to  address  the  new-comers.  But  Dan 
Cogger  is  the  wagon-master  of  the  train,  and  has  there- 
fore some  right  to  a  front  place  and  the  first  word. 

His  shoulders,  with  which  he  pushes  himself  through 
the  little  crowd  gathered  about  the  horsemen,  are  those 
of  a  bison,  hidden  under  a  coarse  flannel  shirt.  His 
long  nether  limbs  are  covered  by  a  pair  of  old  buck- 
skins, tanned,  one  might  say,  with  dust  and  ashes,  and 
half  concealed  by  long  cavalry  boots.  Drawn  down 
over  his  stiff  red  hair,  and  almost  hiding  his  sharp 
gray  eyes,  is  a  cavalry  hat,  from  which  all  grace  of 
outline  departed  long  since,  with  full  half  its  rim. 

"  We're  uncommon  glad  to  see  ye,"  says  the  wagon- 
master  with  a  grim  smile,  as  the  scouts  bring  up  their 
ponies  with  a  jerk,  throwing  each  upon  its  haunches ; 
"  but  'pears  to  me  it's  hardly  wuth  while  t'  kill  the 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  23 

beasts,  an'  come  tearin'  down  on  us  's  though  a  thou- 
san'  devils  were  arter  ye." 

The  wagon-master  is  somewhat  ashamed  of  the  war- 
like preparation  made  to  receive  the  two  scouts. 

"  A  thousand  devils !  "  gasps  one,  out  of  breath  with 
the  race.  "  Ye  may  say  that ;  an',  if  ye  put  it  at  two, 
ye  won't  be  far  out  o'  the  way.  We  followed  their  trail 
for  a  mile  or  two,  till  it  struck  off  toward  the  river, 
where  they're  camped  most  likely  by  this  time,  not  half 
a  dozen  miles  from  here." 

"  And  the  tracks  were  fresh  ?  "  Captain  Luttrell  takes 
up  the  question. 

"  Not  three  hours  old." 

"  Some  camp,  perhaps,  moving  south,"  the  captain 
says  carelessly,  taking  his  cigar  from  his  lips. 

"  I'll  be if  it  was  !  "  replies  the  scout,  whose  pro- 
fessional acuteness  seems  called  into  question  by  this 
remark.  "  We  followed  'em  up  sharp  for  a  mile  or  two, 
and  there  wasn't  the  scratch  of  a  lodge-pole  among 
'em." 

"  How  many,  did  you  say  ?  "  Captain  Luttrell  throws 
away  his  cigar :  it  has  lost  its  flavor. 

"  Five  hundred,  —  a  thousand,  —  ten  thousand,  —  as 
many  as  you'll  want  to  see,  I  reckon :  we  forgot  to 
count  'em." 

And,  without  waiting  to  be  questioned  further,  the 
scout  drew  the  bridle  across  the  neck  of  his  mustang, 
and  rode  off  among  the  men. 

They  were  a  feeble  force  of  fighting  men,  —  a  small 
company  of  cavalry,  a  couple  of  officers  on  the  way  to 
join  their  commands,  and  half  a  dozen  young  blades 
from  the  States  in  search  of  adventure.  This  was  all. 
The  teamsters  would  count  for  nothing  in  case  of  an 
attack. 


24  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

Cogger's  sharp  features  had  been  working  in  a  re- 
markable manner  during  this  brief  dialogue,  as  though 
he  were  trying  with  difficulty  to  swallow  this  unwel- 
come news. 

"  We  must  make  the  best  of  onpleasant  sarcum- 
stances,"  he  says  at  last,  giving  one  final  contortion  to 
his  face.  "  Ef  the  durned  fools  ain't  left  the  teams  !  " 
he  burst  out  in  angry  amazement,  forgetting  that  he 
had  been  pushed  and  jostled  by  these  same  men  for 
the  past  five  minutes.  But  he  had  been  in  spirit  in 
the  midst  of  that  Comanche  camp  up  the  river,  count- 
ing his  enemies,  and  balancing  the  rather  uneven 
chances  of  the  next  day.  He  turned  upon  the  recre- 
ant drivers  now,  with  a  skilful  discharge  of  ingenious 
oaths,  which  sent  every  man  to  his  place,  and,  by  re- 
storing the  atmosphere  ordinarily  hanging  about  the 
train,  revived  its  fainting  courage  in  a  measure. 

They  must  push  on.  Every  mile  gained  was  a  fresh 
hold  on  life.  With  this  foe  between  them  and  the  fort, 
there  was  every  thing  to  fear.  Still,  by  chance  or  good 
fortune,  they  might  yet  escape  their  foes,  who  were, 
perhaps,  unaware  of  their  approach.  If  they  could 
but  slip  by  the  Indian  camp  before  striking  the  river 
again !  The  darkness,  the  bend  in  the  trail,  would  favor 
the  attempt ;  or,  at  the  worst,  they  were  not  far  from 
help.  Dan  Cogger,  riding  at  the  head  of  the  train,  his 
torn  hat  pulled  down  over  his  restless  gray  eyes,  was 
already  planning  in  his  mind  how,  when  night  should 
have  come,  to  dodge  the  Indian  camp,  gallop  to  the  fort, 
rout  out  the  "  regulars,"  and  return  before  the  approach 
of  the  wagons  should  be  discovered  by  their  enemies. 
They  had  been  foolhardy  to  leave  Independence  with  so 
small  a  force ;  but  they  had  waited,  with  the  promise 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  25 

of  an  additional  company  which  never  came,  until  there 
was  almost  as  much  to  fear  from  drifting  snow-storms 
as  from  savage  foes ;  more,  indeed,  since  the  latter  (if 
true  to  tradition  or  precedent)  should  by  this  time  have 
moved  their  camps  south  of  the  river,  docked  of  feath- 
ers, and  washed  free  from  war-paint.  From  the  weather 
they  had  so  far  suffered  nothing.  It  had  been  unex- 
ceptionally  clear,  though  growing  colder  day  by  day, 
and  threatening  snow  of  late  ;  and,  as  for  other  dan- 
gers, they  had  not  so  much  as  met  the  track  of  one 
unshod  pony,  until  the  report  the  scouts  brought  in 
to-night.  But  they  had  reached  the  debatable  land, 
the  common  hunting-ground  of  the  tribes  ;  and  it  would 
be  strange  indeed  if  they  crossed  it  without  an  adven- 
ture. 

Not  a  crack  from  a  driver's  whip  broke  upon  the  still 
air  as  the  day  drew  swiftly  to  its  close.  Oh  the  lagging 
indifference  of  the  dull-eyed  beasts,  dragging  the  slow- 
moving  wagons  on,  while  danger  crouched  behind 
every  hillock,  and  life  waited  for  them  hardly  twenty 
miles  away !  At  last  one  of  the  oxen  staggered,  at- 
tempted one  more  uncertain  step,  and  fell.  Before  he 
had  struck  the  ground,  the  driver  had  unfastened  the 
chain,  and  was  dragging  at  the  heavy  yoke.  The  great 
wheels  swung  slowly  to  one  side,  the  whole  train  gave 
this  feeble  lurch ;  and  the  poor  animal  was  left  to  his 
I  at  i  .  More  than  one  of  the  others  showed  signs  of 
giving  out ;  but  they  pushed  on  until  they  had  reached 
the  hanks  of  a  small  creek  fringed  with  willows,  flowing 
at  a  little  distance  into  the  Arkansas  River.  And  here 
they  prepared  to  encamp  for  the  night. 

The  great  yellow  disk  of  a  November  sun  hangs 
upon  the  peak  of  a  distant  "  divide  "  as  the  wagons  are 


26  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

drawn  into  a  close  circle,  within  which  the  animals  are 
corraled.  They  are  guarded  and  tended  with  extra 
care  to-night ;  for  they  are  worth  all  that  a  man  would 
give  for  his  life.  The  men  gather  the  half-consumed 
branches  of  the  leafless  willows,  over  which  the  Indian 
fires  have  swept,  to  make  a  feeble  blaze  by  which  they 
may  prepare  their  supper  when  the  darkness  shall  have 
hung  a  blanket  between  them  and  their  foes.  To  send 
up  the  smoke  of  a  camp-fire  now,  or  to  ring  out  into 
the  resonant  air  the  stroke  of  an  axe,  would  be  to  bring 
their  enemies  upon  them  at  once.  Even  the  harsh 
voices  of  the  teamsters,  and  the  curses  of  the  men  mov- 
ing among  the  animals,  are  so  subdued  as  to  lose  the 
emphasis  which  is  all  their  power.  They  realize,  with 
Cogger,  that  it  is  "  by  dodgin',  not  by  fightin',' '  they  are 
to  get  in  this  time,  if  at  all. 

A  young  man,  mounted  upon  a  clean-limbed,  broad- 
flanked  bay  mare,  has  struck  off  alone  from  the  camp 
while  these  preparations  for  the  night  are  being  made. 
The  small  head  of  the  animal  droops  wearily  as  she 
realizes  that  her  day's  work  is  not  yet  done.  She  steps 
cautiously  into  the  stream  beside  which  the  camp  is 
forming,  and  where  a  thin  film  of  ice  is  beginning  to 
gather ;  then  gaining  the  other  side,  and  taking  heart, 
perhaps  of  necessity,  she  throws  off  her  weariness  with 
a  bound,  and  stretches  into  a  gallop  across  the  valley, 
shut  in  on  either  side,  at  the  distance  of  half  a  mile,  by 
irregular  hills.  Under  a  summer  sky,  with  the  grass 
fresh,  and  matted  into  a  thick  carpet,  the  pale  green  of 
the  willows  lying  against  the  darker  color  of  the  hills, 
and  with  the  water-course  gurgling  over  its  shallows, 
this  valley  might  have  a  charm  of  its  own.  But  now, 
blackened  and  dreary  from  fire  and  approaching  night, 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  27 

darkened  and  chill  with  coming  winter,  it  holds  nothing 
to  attract  the  eye.  The  bridle  drops  upon  the  neck  of 
the  horse  as  it  bears  its  rider  slowly  over  the  broken 
land  leading  to  the  low  crest  of  the  hill  before  them. 
That  gained,  the  young  man  unslings  a  glass  from  his 
side,  and  scans  the  darkening  landscape.  Not  a  cloud 
breaks  the  short  waving  line  of  the  horizon  in  the  west 
as  the  sun  drops  from  the  point  where  it  has  hung  for  a 
moment.  With  its  fall  a  flood  of  gold  pours  out  along 
the  sky.  Bold  and  sharp  against  it  stand  out  the  hills, 
brought  strangely  near  by  the  deceptive  air.  How  nar- 
row the  earth  grows  for  once !  A  gallop  to  the  ridge 
beyond,  where  the  horseman  is  standing,  and  one  might 
plunge  off  into  space.  Bold  and  sharp,  too,  rises  this 
mounted  figure  in  its  travel-worn  cavalry  jacket  hand- 
somely braided  and  frogged.  A  fine  target  for  an  arrow 
you  would  be,  Captain  Robert  Elyot,  did  an  Indian 
chance  to  hide  behind  the  mound  you  scan  so  carelessly ! 
Perhaps  he  thinks  the  same ;  for  gathering  the  loosened 
bridle,  with  a  touch  of  his  heel  to  the  side  of  the  ani- 
mal, he  is  off  like  an  arrow  down  the  slope  toward  the 
camp. 

Hardly  has  he  gained  the  level  ground,  when  some 
one  comes  riding  slowly  to  meet  him.  It  would  be  im- 
possible to  tell  which  wears  the  more  dejected  air, —  the 
lop-eared,  lop-headed,  drooping-tailed  animal  approach- 
ing, whose  appearance  is  a  sermon  upon  the  vanity  of 
life  and  the  futility  of  beastly  effort,  or  the  scantily 
mustachioed  young  officer  astride  him. 

"  Confound  the  plains  !  "  the  latter  mutters  gloomily, 
as  he  joins  Captain  Elyot.  "  I  tell  you,  Elyot,  a  snail 
would  sicken  of  the  pace  we  have  kept  up  the  past 
three  days." 


28  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

"  Your  horse  seems  to  be  rather  the  worse  for  it ; " 
and  there  is  a  laugh  in  the  eye  of  the  speaker  as  he 
regards  the  sorry  beast  the  new-comer  rides. 

"Yes,  I  know, — broken-winded,  spavined,  blind  in 
one  eye,  too,  I  fancy.  I'd  like  to  see  that  dealer  again ! 
Lord !  I'd  like  to  see  anybody  out  of  this  infernal 
region  of  sand  and  buffalo-grass.  I  say,  Elyot,  is  it 
always  like  this  ?  " 

And  he  throws  a  glance  of  contempt  upon  their  sur- 
roundings, which  should  have  stirred  the  very  bosom 
of  the  earth. 

"  Worse,  a  thousand  times  worse  ! "  laughs  the  other. 
"  If  we  run  through  this,  we  shall  be  snowed  in  at  the 
fort  in  less  than  a  week." 

"And  then?" 

"  Oh !  we  smoke,  play  cards,  hate  each  other  heartily, 
and  hide  it;  and  you've  no  idea  what  an  amount  of 
surplus  energy  a  man  may  work  off  in  that  way.  Then 
there'll  be  five  hundred  red-devils,  more  or  less,  hanging 
about  the  fort  to  beg  or  steal,  unless,  as  they  say,  they're 
out  on  the  war-path.  In  that  case,  we  may  be  ordered 
south  on  a  campaign,  with  the  weather  cold  enough  to 
freeze  the  flesh,  and  shiver  it  off  your  bones." 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  ejaculated  the  younger  man. 

"Oh!  it's  not  so  bad  a  life,  after  all,  when  you're 
used  to  it,"  the  first  speaker  went  on.  "  There  are 
always  ladies  at  the  post ;  and,  if  we're  not  sent  off,  we 
get  up  a  dance,  or  theatricals,  or  something  to  make  the 
time  pass." 

"  And  do  you  like  it  ?  "  asked  the  younger  man,  when 
they  had  ridden  in  silence  for  a  moment. 

"Do  I  like  it?  Do  I  like  the  service?"  rejoined  the 
other  one  coldly. 


HIS   INHERITANCE  29 

"  But  it  is  rather  hard,  —  to  send  a  man  into  this  wil- 
derness the  first  year,"  stammered  Lieutenant  Orme. 

"  That  depends.  Every  thing  is  hard  when  a  man  is 
determined  not  to  be  satisfied.  But  you'll  keep  such 
sentiments  from  the  major's  ears,  if  you're  wise.  And 
you'll  be  thankful  enough,  a  dozen  years  hence,  that 
you  were  sent  out  here  to  rough  it  a  while,  rather  than 
to  some  soft  spot  in  the  States,  within  arm's-length  of 
your  mother,  and  with  nothing  to  do  but  polish  your 
sword,  and  show  off  your  new  uniform." 

"  My  mother !  "  repeated  the  boy  (for  he  was  hardly 
more),  "I  wish  I  could  see  her!"  And  he  turned 
away  his  head. 

"  I  wish  you  could,"  said  the  other  with  good-natured 
roughness.  "I  never  had  a  mother  or  a  sister  whom 
I  could  remember,"  he  added  in  a  softer  tone.  "  But  I 
tell  you,  Orme,  this  won't  do,  you  know.  You  can't 
take  such  a  face  as  that  into  Atchison.  It's  hard  enough 
for  a  man  to  hold  his  own  there,  without  hanging  out 
such  a  signal  as  you're  carrying.  We  ought  to  strike 
the  fort  by  sunset  to-morrow,"  he  added ;  "  that  is,  if 
we  get  in  at  all." 

But,  though  he  said  this  under  his  breath,  the  young 
lieutenant  caught  the  words. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  You  heard  the  report  the  scouts  brought  in"  — 

"  No :  I  was  asleep  in  one  of  the  wagons  the  last  hour 
or  two  before  we  halted." 

"  That  there  are  from  five  hundred  to  a  thousand 
red-skins  between  us  and  Atchison  ?  " 

"  And  you  think  they'll  come  down  on  us  ?  " 

The  lieutenant's  eye  had  lost  its  dulness,  the  peevish 
tone  had  left  his  voice,  as  he  put  the  question  excitedly. 


30  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

Captain  Elyot  regarded  him  oddly  for  a  moment. 

"  You'll  do,"  he  said  with  a  laugh,  "  though  I  began 
to  think  I  had  a  molly-coddle  on  my  hands.  Think  we 
shall  see  'em  ?  Why,  man,  they're  not  five  miles  away. 
See  here ! "  and,  wheeling  his  horse  sharply,  he  struck 
back  upon  the  way  they  had  just  come  over,  followed 
by  his  companion  as  fast  as  his  forlorn  beast  could  carry 
him. 

As  they  approached  the  crest  of  the  hill  where  he 
had  stood  a  few  moments  before,  Captain  Elyot  dis- 
mounted, and,  leaving  his  horse,  made  the  ascent  on 
foot.  He  even  dropped  to  the  ground  before  gaining 
the  summit,  with  a  caution  he  would  have  scorned  had 
he  been  alone.  But  "  the  boy  may  as  well  learn  to  take 
care  of  himself,"  thought  this  young  mentor. 

The  grayness  of  night  was  beginning  to  gather.  The 
swelling  land  behind  them  was  already  indistinct  in  out- 
line, as  the  two  young  men  lay  side  by  side  upon  the 
coarse  scorched  grass,  while  the  elder  pointed  away 
toward  the  south-west,  where  the  glare  of  sunset  still  lit 
up  the  sky.  Like  mighty  steps  the  hills  rose  to  meet  it, 
the  last  seeming  hardly  a  mile  away.  A  faint  gray 
cloud  lay  against  the  flame-colored  sky ;  a  fixed  base, 
hardly  perceptible,  moored  it  to  the  earth. 

"  Smoke,  by  thunder  ! "  and  the  younger  man  sprang 
to  his  knees. 

"  Lie  low  ! "  said  Captain  Elyot  sharply,  pulling  him  to 
the  ground  again.  "  Yes,  it  is  a  camp-fire,"  he  added 
reflectively.  "  I  almost  fancied  I  was  mistaken  when  I 
had  ridden  away  from  it.  And  we  shall  have  them 
down  upon  us  to-morrow,  unless  they  have  heard  noth- 
ing of  our  coming,  and  have  other  game  in  hand,  which 
I  very  much  doubt.  But  come,  it's  time  we  were  on 
the  move  again ; "  and  he  began  the  descent. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  31 

"  See  here,  Elyot,"  said  Lieutenant  Orme,  as  they  were 
mounting  the  beasts,  that  were  too  weary  to  stray  far 
from  the  spot  where  they  had  been  left.  "  I  hope  you 
don't  think,  because  I  grumbled  just  now,  that  I  should 
show  the  white  feather  if"  — 

"  Nonsense,  man !  "  said  the  other  quickly,  springing 
into  the  saddle  with  an  agility  one  would  hardly  have 
expected  from  a  frame  by  no  means  light.  "  But,  when 
you  have  been  in  what  you  call  this  '  wilderness '  as  long 
as  I,  you'll  learn  that  there  are  worse  fates  than  crawl- 
ing over  a  tolerable  road,  with  plenty  to  eat,  —  such  as 
it  is,  —  a  clear  sky  overhead,  and  the  prospect  of  keep- 
ing your  scalp  for  twenty-four  hours,  at  least.  But 
come  on,  or  Luttrell  will  fancy  we've  fallen  into  a  trap 
already ;  "  and,  spurring  their  jaded  horses,  they  soon 
gained  the  camp. 

"  Ye'll  be  bringin'  the  varmints  down  on  us,  with  yer 
keerless  ways,"  growled  Cogger  as  they  came  up.  "  Thar 
an't  no  sense  in  temptin'  the  devil !  Hev  ye  seen  any 
thing  like  a  camp-fire  off  thar  ?  "  jerking  his  head  to 
the  southward. 

Leaving  the  lieutenant  to  tell  his  own  story,  Captain 
Elyot  strolled  away  to  a  more  quiet  part  of  the  camp, 
to  reflect,  perhaps,  by  himself,  upon  the  probable  events 
of  the  next  day  as  foreshadowed  by  that  little  cloud  of 
smoke.  He  wrapped  the  cape  of  the  coat  he  had  taken 
from  the  saddle  about  his  head,  —  for  the  air  had  turned 
chill  as  winter,  —  and  threw  himself  down  by  one  of  the 
deserted  wagons. 

Here  and  there,  outside  the  dim  circle  of  ghostly 
wagons,  burned  low  fires,  about  which  preparations  for 
the  evening  meal  were  going  on.  Overhead  the  stars 
grew  brighter  and  brighter  as  the  darkness  shut  them 


32  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

in,  while  above  the  sound  of  wrangling  voices  and  the 
trampling  of  uneasy  hoofs  rose,  louder  and  yet  more 
loud,  the  howl  of  the  gray  wolf  and  the  sharp  bark  of 
the  coyote. 

It  would  be  strange,  indeed,  if,  in  such  a  scene,  and 
with  the  assurance  of  an  enemy  so  near,  unpleasant 
visions  did  not  dodge  the  waking  thoughts  of  a  man, 
even  though  he  were,  like  this  one,  young,  handsome, 
and  heir  to  a  fine  property ;  since  half  the  pangs  we 
suffer  are  from  possibilities.  He  had  seen  enough  of 
this  kind  of  warfare  to  know,  that,  if  attacked  by  a  foe 
of  half  the  number  the  scout  had  reported,  they  could 
hardly  hope  to  hold  out  long  enough  to  fight  the  whole 
ground  over  between  this  and  Fort  Atchison.  At  such 
a  time,  youth,  good  looks,  or  worldly  prospects  count 
for  little.  Life  stretches  out  wide  and  green  and  beau- 
tiful when  one's  eyes  seem  likely  to  be  forced  to  close 
upon  it.  Personal  beauty  was  a  snare  to  which  he  had 
given  little  thought ;  and  wealth  even,  though  already 
in  his  hand,  could  do  nothing  for  him  here. 

That  barest  of  all  comforting  reflections  was  his,  —  if 
the  worst  came,  there  was  no  one  to  grieve  for  him : 
he  was  alone  in  the  world.  Old  uncle  Jeremy,  his  near- 
est of  kin,  away  off  in  an  Eastern  city,  who  had  quar- 
relled with  and  finally  buried  all  his  own  children,  would 
hardly  weep  for  his  nephew  and  heir,  since  he  already 
regarded  with  a  kind  of  jealousy  the  man  who  was 
some  day  to  enjoy  what  he  was  by  no  means  willing  to 
give  up.  Ah,  if  money  could  be  changed  into  a  spiritual 
medium,  there  would  be  few  legacies  left  to  the  world ! 
But  since  that  could  not  be,  in  case  he  was  taken  off, 
this  wealth,  which,  it  must  be  avowed,  Captain  Elyot 
had  looked  forward  to  spending  after  a  way  of  his  own, 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  33 

would  go  —  the  Lord  knew  where  !     For  uncle  Jeremy 
was  neither  pious  nor  charitable. 

He  had  fallen  into  as  low  a  state  of  mind  as  it  is 
possible  for  a  young  fellow  without  a  particle  of  senti- 
ment to  descend  to,  when  something  occurred  which 
swept  the  whole  dismal  reverie  away  in  an  instant. 


34  HIS   INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  III. 

"YOU  GAVE  MY  LITTLE  GAL  A  PEECIOUS   SCAKE." 

A  MOVEMENT  in  the  wagon  above  him  made 
him  raise  his  head.  Every  sound  might  have  a 
double  meaning  now.  Then  —  no,  —  yes,  it  was  the 
pretty,  neatly  dressed  foot  of  a  woman  being  pushed 
timidly  down  from  the  wagon.  It  found  a  resting- 
place,  and  another  followed ;  the  skirt  of  a  gown,  gray 
in  the  dim  light,  came  within  the  range  of  his  vision ; 
and  at  last,  with  a  spring  from  the  precarious  perch 
where  it  had  rested  for  an  instant,  the  figure  of  a  girl 
came  lightly  to  the  ground. 

She  was  young :  the  faint  outline  against  the  dark- 
ening sky  told  that.  She  was  a  lady  he  knew  from  her 
step,  as  she  came  cautiously  over  the  rough  grass,  her 
dress  brushing  his  foot.  But  who  was  she  ?  and  where 
had  she  been  hidden  so  long  ?  To  spring  up  was  his 
first  impulse ;  but  this  would  doubtless  alarm  her.  No  : 
it  would  be  better  to  steal  quietly  away  when  she  had 
passed  on,  which  he  soon  saw  she  had  no  intention 
of  doing.  He  rose  noiselessly.  Screened  by  the 
wagons,  she  watched  the  dark  figures  moving  in  and 
out  of  the  light  from  the  dim  camp-fires  as  the  prepara- 
tions for  supper  went  on.  It  was  a  childish  curiosity, 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  35 

for  she  did  not  seem  to  search  for  any  one.  A  little 
shawl  hung  loosely  over  her  shoulders.  She  threw  it 
over  her  head,  and,  growing  bold,  stepped  out  a  few 
paces  from  the  wagons,  with  the  gesture  of  a  truant, 
ready  to  fly  back  at  the  slightest  alarm.  The  young 
man  laughed  to  himself  at  the  caution  with  which  she 
kept  her  eyes  upon  the  men  around  the  fires,  with  no 
thought  of  danger  in  the  rear.  He  intended  to  slip 
away  unperceived,  but  he  delayed  a  moment  too  long. 
Some  unconscious  movement  betrayed  him  to  this  girl, 
watchful  as  a  hound.  She  turned  in  affright ;  and  he 
met  a  pair  of  soft,  wide-opened  eyes  shining  through 
the  twilight,  and  a  repressed  exclamation  of  terror,  as 
she  sprang  back  toward  the  wagon,  where  she  stood 
panting  and  at  bay. 

"  Please  go  away !  "  said  a  low  voice,  which  fright 
made  to  vibrate. 

Captain  Elyot  removed  his  hat.  But  it  was  not  in 
human  nature  to  go ;  not  in  strong,  young,  curious 
human  nature,  at  least. 

"I  am  afraid  I  startled  you,"  he  said  respectfully. 
"  I  beg  your  pardon,  but "  — 

"  Oh,  please  go  away  !  " 

The  girl  was  glancing  from  side  to  side,  as  though 
in  doubt  which  way  to  fly.  To  scale  the  wagon  in  the 
face  of  the  enemy  was  not  to  be  thought  of. 

"Certainly,  madam.  I  only  desired  to  apologize. 
I  trust  you  will  believe  I  had  no  thought  of  playing 
the  spy." 

His  words  were  severely  proper :  his  air,  as  he  took 
one  step  backward  in  proof  of  sincerity,  was  almost 
abject  in  its  humility.  The  girl  regarded  him  doubt- 
fully. She  held  her  gown  with  both  hands,  in  the  very 
attitude  of  escape. 


36  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  I  am  sure  you  had  not ! "  she  said 
hurriedly,  perhaps  with  an  idea  of  conciliation,  since 
her  timid  dismissal  had  not  taken  effect.  "  But  if  you 
would  go  away !  " 

There  was  hardly  the  thickness  of  a  cobweb  between 
the  quavering  voice  and  tears. 

"  I  believe  she  is  afraid  of  me  !  "  exclaimed  the  young 
man,  in  blank  blundering  astonishment ;  and  thereupon 
took  himself  off  without  another  word. 

He  had  skirted  half  the  circle  of  the  camp  before  it 
occurred  to  him  to  cover  his  head  with  the  cavalry  hat 
he  still  carried  in  his  hand.  Who  was  she  ?  And  why 
was  she  here  ?  And,  above  all.  how  had  her  presence 
been  concealed  for  so  long  a  time  ?  He  ran  over  the 
train  in  his  mind.  There  was  the  party  from  the 
States  travelling  in  an  old  stage-coach ;  but  he  set  that 
aside  at  once.  Then  there  were  the  wagons  belonging 
to  the  sutler  at  Fort  Atchison,  and  the  others  going  to 
points  farther  on.  In  the  darkness,  and  deserted  as 
they  were  by  their  drivers,  he  could  not  tell  from  which 
of  these  the  girl  had  descended.  But  he  resolved  to 
have  an  eye  upon  that  part  of  the  train  when  the  com- 
mand to  "  catch  up "  should  come  the  next  morning. 
Then  he  went  off  in  search  of  Lieutenant  Orme  and 
supper;  after  which,  the  incident  passed  from  his  mind, 
as  he  joined  the  informal  council  gathered  to  talk  over 
the  chances  of  the  morrow. 

"  It's  no  use  deceivin'  yerselves,"  Cogger  was  saying, 
as  he  came  up  to  the  group,  gathered  in  a  circle  about 
the  ashes  of  what  had  been  at  best  but  the  suggestion 
of  a  camp-fire.  "The  rascals'll  scent  us  out  before 
we've  been  an  hour  on  the  trail,  ef  they  ain't  a'ready. 
Lord  knows  I  ain't  no  fellership  with  fitin'  when  I  kin 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  37 

run.  But  it's  agin  natur'  to  expect  them  oxen  to  do 
much  toward  streakin'  it  to  a  place  o'  safety,  let  alone 
the  wagons." 

The  speaker  paused  after  thus  stating  the  case,  and, 
drawing  his  blanket  a  little  more  closely  about  his 
shoulders,  proceeded  to  puff  away  seriously  at  his  pipe. 
A  desultory  discussion  followed  his  words.  But  this  he 
interrupted  after  a  moment. 

"  I  wouldn't  give  much  for  our  har,  sech  as  'tis,"  he 
said  in  a  cheerful  spirit  of  prophecy,  "  ef  they  come 
down  on  us,  unless  the  major  kin  send  some  o'  them 
lazy  fellers  at  the  fort  t'  give  us  a  h'ist." 

"  If  we  had  twenty-five  more  men,  I'd  defy  any  num- 
ber of  them,"  said  Captain  Luttrell  boldly. 

"  Ef  ye  had  !  "  Cogger  repeats  dryly,  blowing  a  cloud 
of  smoke  from  his  nostrils. 

"I  wish  to  the  Lord  we'd  never  started!"  mutters 
one  of  the  young  men  from  civilization. 

"I  reckon  ye  do,"  says  Cogger  complacently.  "I 
don't  expect  to  enjoy  it  much  myself.  But  thar'll  be  a 
struggle  for't  before  they  git  my  skelp  among  'em.  Ef 
some  o'  you  boys  who  ain't  good  fur  nuthin  else  'ud  try 
for  the  fort  now,  ye'd  get  in,  most  likely,  under  kiver  o' 
the  dark,  and  could  rout  out  the  reg'lars  afore  we're 
clean  done  for.  Ye've  got  to  do  somethin'  for  yer- 
selves,"  he  added  when  no  response  came  from  the 
party  to  whom  this  was  addressed.  "  They  do  say  that 
Providence  takes  keer  o'  them  as  can't  look  out  for 
themselves ;  but  I  reckon  'tain't  in  the  Injun  country." 

"  Why  shouldn't  we  all  try  for  the  fort  when  the 
night  has  fairly  set  in  ?  "  says  the  penitent  adventurer 
who  had  spoken  before.  "There  are  horses  enough, 
and  the  scouts  know  the  country." 


38  HIS   LNHEKITANCE. 

" An'  leave  the  teams?"  The  pipe  almost  fell  from 
Cogger's  mouth  with  his  gasp  of  utter  astonishment. 
"  "Tain't  what  I've  come  for,  young  man,  t'  save  my 
skin.  I  could  'a'  done  that  a  durned  sight  easier  by 
stayin'  in  the  States.  I  kalkerlate  t'  git  these  wagons 
through,  or  lay  my  bones  beside  'em." 

"  Is  there  any  one  who  will  try  for  the  fort  ?  "  Captain 
Luttrell  asks,  breaking  in  impatiently.  "There's  no 
use  in  wasting  our  time  in  this  way.  If  any  one  goes, 
he  ought  to  be  off  in  an  hour.  The  moon'll  be  up  soon 
after  midnight." 

"  I  will,"  says  Tony  Baird.  Captain  Elyot  rose  to  his 
feet:  "-And  I."  "And  I,"  said  Lieutenant  Orme, 
springing  from  his  place.  "Let  me  go  with  you,  Elyot," 
he  added  eagerly  in  a  lower  tone. 

"  'Tain't  no  use,"  Cogger  broke  in :  "  two's  enough. 
Ye'll  be  more  likely  t'  git  through." 

"I  believe  it  is  so,"  said  Captain  Luttrell.  "We  shall 
have  to  excuse  you  this  time,  lieutenant.  And,  indeed, 
we  must  not  weaken  our  force  here  more  than  is  neces- 
sary." 

"We  may  as  well  git  what  sleep  we  kin,"  says 
Cogger,  rolling  himself  up  in  his  blanket  when  Captain 
Luttrell  had  disappeared  to  write  a  despatch  for  the 
major  commanding  at  Fort  Atchison.  "  We'll  have  to 
stretch  out  a  couple  of  hours  arter  midnight.  Thar 
ain't  no  sense  in  lyin'  round,  an'  just  waitin'  to  be 
swallered  up.  It  kind  o'  keeps  up  a  man's  courage  to 
be  movin'  on,  especially  a  man  who  ain't  no  more  gift  at 
fitin'  than  I  hev."  For  Cogger  parades  his  cowardice 
ostentatiously,  though  everybody  knows  that  there  is 
not  a  more  fearless  man  upon  the  plains. 

A  short,  broad  figure,  under  a  regulation  cap,  had  been 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  39 

moving  about  upon  the  edge  of  the  group  during  this 
conversation.  The  man  advanced  to  Captain  Elyot  now, 
and,  touching  his  cap,  said,  — 

"  A  word  with  ye,  cap'n." 

"  Is  that  you,  Stubbs  ?  "  For  it  was  the  sutler  from 
Fort  Atchison.  "  Speak  quick,  man.  I've  no  time  to 
spare." 

But  the  sutler,  by  a  mysterious  motion  of  the  head, 
drew  the  young  man  away  from  the  others.  Even  in 
the  dim  light  of  the  stars,  one  might  see  that  Stubbs 
had  given  particular  attention  to  his  personal  appear- 
ance,—  a  fact  so  noticeable  by  daylight  as  to  draw 
upon  him  many  a  jest.  The  dust,  which  had  covered 
them  all  day  after  day,  was  carefully  removed  from  his 
garments ;  his  mild,  broad  face  was  closely  shaven ;  and 
even  his  linen  did  not  appear  neglected.  But  all  this,  it 
may  be  imagined,  Captain  Elyot  did  not  notice  now. 
There  was  a  nervous,  anxious  manner  about  the  sutler, 
much  more  apparent  than  any  peculiarity  of  dress. 
Nor  was  it  strange,  since  a  small  fortune  had  been 
invested  in  the  wagons  he  was  pushing  on  to  the  fort. 
The  chance  of  losing  this,  to  say  nothing  of  personal 
danger,  might  well  alarm  him. 

"  Well,"  said  Captain  Elyot,  when  they  had  gained  a 
spot  quite  beyond  the  hearing  of  the  others,  and  still 
the  sutler  hesitated.  "  Whatever  it  is,  Stubbs,  speak  out. 
You  forget  that  I  have  to  be  off  in  half  an  hour.  Have 
the  horses  stampeded,  or  a  spy  crept  into  camp,  or  "  — 

"No;  but — you  gave  my  little  gal  a  precious 
scare  !  "  said  the  man  at  last. 

His  little  girl !  The  words  were  an  enigma  to  the 
young  man.  He  almost  thought  anxiety  had  given 
Stubbs's  dull  brain  a  turn.  Then  the  scene  of  an  hour 


40  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

before  came  back  to  him.  His  little  girl !  Could  this 
be  Stubbs's  daughter  ?  Various  traditions,  rumors,  and 
authenticated  stories  began  to  gather  and  concentrate 
in  his  mind.  He  had  not  sat  by  Stubbs's  fire  of  even- 
ings for  six  months  past,  without  hearing  of  Blossom's 
beauty,  her  learning  (somewhat  exaggerated,  it  must  be 
owned),  and  her  pretty  ways.  Though,  to  do  Stubbs 
justice,  he  had  seldom  referred  to  her,  except  indirectly, 
or  by  a  pathetic  sigh  over  her  absence.  It  was  Mrs. 
Stubbs,  who,  with  certain  possibilities  in  her  mind,  had 
taken  every  opportunity  to  expatiate  upon  Blossom's 
charms.  Some  red-cheeked  Amazon,  after  the  type  of 
the  mother,  Captain  Elyot  had  fancied  her  to  be ;  or  some 
moon-faced  damsel,  a  sketch  in  chalk  of  Stubbs,  whose 
good-nature  would  be  equalled  only  by  her  stupidity. 
But  this  pretty  little  creature,  with  her  frightened  eyes 
and  the  unconscious  grace  that  bespoke  her  a  lady  — 
this,  Stubbs's  daughter ! 

"  I  reckon  it  was  a  s'prise  to  ye,"  said  Stubbs,  with  a 
touch  of  pride  in  his  voice.  "  Ye  see,  I'm  fetchin'  her 
home.  At  least,"  he  added, — and  all  his  former  anxiety 
seemed  to  return,  and  weigh  down  his  words  till  they 
were  almost  too  heavy  to  be  uttered,  —  "that's  what 
I've  started  fur." 

"But  how  have  you  managed  to  hide  her  all  this 
time?  And  good  Lord,  man!"  —  as  a  vision  of  the 
morrow  rose  in  his  mind  —  "  what  are  you  going  to  do 
with  her  now  ?  " 

The  young  man  had  forgotten  his  haste  to  be  gone. 
He  could  think  of  nothing  but  the  dreadful  fright  and 
worse  fate  to  which  the  poor  girl  might  be  exposed  on 
the  morrow,  —  the  girl  who  had  trembled  at  sight  of 
him. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  41 

"  "What  will  you  do  with  her  ?  "  he  asked  sharply. 
The  man  was  a  fool  to  bring  his  daughter  into  such 
danger. 

"  That's  what  I  wanted  to  ask  ye,"  said  poor  Stubbs 
abjectly.  "  I  know  I  ought  never  to  'ave  brought  her. 
She  ain't  like  her  mother." 

"I  should  think  not."  A  vision  of  Mrs.  Stubbs, 
with  her  soldierly  figure  and  fearless  face,  crossed  the 
young  man's  mind. 

"  I  ought  to  have  sold  out,  and  "  — 

"But  it's  too  late  for  that,"  said  the  young  man 
impatiently.  And  the  poor  girl  had  no  one  to  depend 
upon  but  this  stupid  fellow  (whom  he  had  found  tolera- 
bly companionable  before  now).  Some  wild  scheme 
of  freeing  himself  from  his  offer  to  ride  to  the  fort 
tempted  Captain  Elyot ;  and  yet  he  could  not  do  it  in 
honor.  No,  he  must  go.  But  he  would  say  a  word  to 
Orme,  or  even  speak  to  Luttrell.  Stubbs  was  not  to  be 
trusted  with  such  a  charge.  He  forgot  that  the  girl 
was  Stubbs's  own  daughter. 

"  You're  going  to  try  for  the  fort  ?  "  Stubbs  broke  in 
upon  his  revery  timidly. 

"  Yes." 

"  Don't  ye  think,  cap'n  "  —  the  man's  voice  trembled 
over  the  words,  —  "  don't  ye  believe  ye  could  take  the 
little  gal  along  ?  " 

"  Good  Lord,  Stubbs  !     It  is  impossible." 

"  She  could  ride  with  the  bes't  of  ye.  I  learned  her 
myself,"  Stubbs  said  eagerly. 

"  But  we  may  never  reach  the  fort." 

"  There's  no  reason  why  ye  shouldn't.  It's  the 
wagons  the  devils  are  arter.  If  ye  had  a  fresh  horse, 
now  —  I  wouldn't  look  at  your  money  yesterday  for 


42  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

Black  Jess,  I'd  half  promised  her  to  Luttrell  at  a  higher 
figger ;  but  she's  yours,  an'  nothin'  to  pay  "  — 

"Keep  your  bribes  for  those  who  want  them.  A 
man  don't  take  pay  for  a  service  like  that,"  said  Captain 
Elyot  proudly.  "  And  it's  out  of  the  question,  Stubbs. 
It  can't  be  done." 

He  was  moving  off,  when  the  sutler  seized  him  by  the 
arm. 

"  You  ain't  got  no  wife  nor  children ;  but  you  must 
have  a  heart  in  ye  somewhere  to  feel  for  them  as  has. 
Why,  I've  seen  ye  carry  a  wounded  dog  in  yer  arms ; 
an'  wouldn't  ye  do  as  much  for  one  o'  God's  human 
creeters  ?  Oh !  ye  don't  know  what  it  is  to  have  the 
little  gal  hangin'  on  ter  yer  heart  day  an'  night,  till  ye 
couldn't  git  no  rest  for  thinkin'  of  her.  Sech  a  soft, 
frightsome  little  thing,  scared  of  her  shadder !  An' 
to  think "  —  And  the  man  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  Captain  Elyot  said  hesitatingly.  "  But 
Captain  Luttrell  would  never  consent :  so  much  depends 
upon  our  getting  in !  " 

"  He'd  never  say  no  to  you ;  an'  there  ain't  a  man 
among  'em,  but  'ud  be  sorry  to  know  thar  was  a  woman 
in  camp  if  the  Injuns  come  down  on  us  to-morrow. 
Offer  him  what  ye  will,  cap'n.  He  ain't  afraid  o'  the 
touch  o'  gold:  'twon't  blister  his  hand.  Tell  him  he 
never  should  repent  it  as  long  as  he  lived.  There  are 
some  favors  a  man  don't-  forget  in  a  hurry." 

"  But  the  scout  ?  " 

"  Tony  ?  He'd  sell  his  soul  for'  a  silver  dollar :  it's  a 
pity  if  he  wouldn't  do  a  feller-creeter  a  good  turn  for 
a  dozen  gold  ones." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Captain  Elyot  reluctantly.     "  I'll 


HIS   DTHEEITANCE.  43 

do  what  I  can  for  you,  Stubbs.  This  is  no  place  for  a 
woman.  Any  way,  I'll  speak  to  Luttrell." 

"  Then  you'll  do  it  ?  You'll  run  the  little  gal  into 
the  fort?" 

"  I'll  do  what  I  can :  God  knows  she  ought  not  to 
be  here."  Already  he  was  assuming  responsibility 
over  this  girl  with  whom  he  had  not  exchanged  a 
dozen  words. 

But  Stubbs  was  wringing  his  hand  in  a  passion  of 
gratitude. 

"  God  bless  ye  !  God  bless  ye  !  I  knew  ye  would. 
It'll  be  made  up  to  ye,  though  ye  won't  take  the  horse. 
An'  I  don't  care  what  comes  now,  if  the  child'll  only 
get  to  her  mother.  I  sha'n't  never  see  the  fort  myself ; 
but"  — 

"  Nonsense,  man !     What  are  you  talking  about  ?  " 

"It's  been  a-weighin'  me  down,"  Stubbs  replied 
gloomily,  — "  down  an'  down,  till  the  heart's  clean 
gone  out  o'  me.  One  stroke  more'd  do  it;  an'  I  reckon 
I'll  git  that  to-morrow." 

"You're  low-spirited  from  worrying  over  this  mat- 
ter," said  Captain  Elyot  cheerfully.  "  You'll  cheer  up 
by  daylight.  But  suppose  you  try  for  the  fort  yourself, 
you  might  go  in  my  place :  I'll  speak  to  Luttrell  about 
it." 

But  Stubbs  shook  his  head. 

"  I  ain't  never  yet  left  the  teams ;  an'  I'll  stand  by 
'em  to  the  last." 

"  Then  I  must  be  off.  I'll  see  Captain  Luttrell  at  once. 
I  reckon  I  can  bring  him  round :  so  you  may  as  well 
prepare  your  daughter.  Don't  frighten  her.  Or  has 
she  heard?" 


44  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

"  She  don't  so  much  as  know  there's  an  Injun  within 
a  hundred  miles." 

"  So  much  the  better.  Bring  her  here  in  half  an 
hour,  and  mind  you  don't  keep  us  waiting.  I  hope  you 
can  mount  her;  for  I  haven't  a  spare  animal.  The 
mare  I  rode  to-day  is  quite  used  up." 

"  Never  you  fear  about  a  horse  for  Blossom :  I'll  see 
to  that.  Jest  you  make  it  right  with  the  cap'n  an'  the 
rest  of  'em ;  and  don't  stand  for  the  price." 

"  I'll  try :  a  man  can't  promise  more." 

They  separated  hastily,  —  Stubbs  to  go  and  prepare 
Blossom  for  her  night-ride,  and  Captain  Elyot  to  con- 
ciliate the  commanding  officer  and  the  scout. 

"  What  the is  his  daughter  here  for  ?  "  said  Cap- 
tain Luttrell  angrily.  "  But  I  suppose  you  may  as  well 
take  her ; "  for  Captain  Elyot  had  dropped  a  careless 
word  or  two  of  Stubbs's  anxiety,  and  hinted  at  a  debt 
of  gratitude,  which  nobody  was  so  well  able  to  pay  as 
the  sutler.  "  I  hope  he  won't  forget  it  if  we  ever  get 
in,  that's  all,"  grumbled  the  captain,  folding  up  the 
despatch  he  had  been  writing  on  his  knee.  "  He  put 
a  devilish  price  on  that  mare  of  his  yesterday :  I  don't 
care  if  you  tell  him  so." 

The  chink  of  gold  proved  sweetly  persuasive  to  the 
scout.  Words  were  unnecessary.  There  remained  only 
Cogger  to  be  conciliated ;  and  him  Captain  Elyot  met 
close  to  the  appointed  rendezvous. 

"  I  s'pose  the  cap'n's  given  ye  his  orders  ?  "  said  the 
wagon-master,  coming  to  a  halt. 

He  had  not  been  able  to  act  upon  the  advice  bestowed 
so  lavishly  upon  the  others,  —  to  catch  what  rest  might 
be  had  between  now  and  midnight. 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  45 

"Yes:  I  have  the  despatches  here ; "  and  Captain  Elyot 
laid  his  hand  upon  his  breast.  "  But  I  was  looking  for 
you.  Do  you  know,  Cogger,  there's  a  woman  in  the 
train  ?  " 

This  was  no  time  to  choose  his  words,  or  to  break 
more  gently  the  subject  on  his  mind. 

"  Now,  if  them  blasted  "  — 

"It's  only  Stubbs's  daughter,  and  he  is  taking  her 
home  to  her  mother." 

"  Ye  don't  say !     Wharever's  he  kep'  her  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know ;  in  one  of  the  wagons,  probably.  But 
he  wants  us  to  take  her  into  the  fort  to-night.  Captain 
Luttrell  does  not  object,  if  we  are  willing  to  make  the 
attempt.  This'll  be  no  place  for  a  woman,  if  the  Indi- 
ans attack  us." 

Cogger  would  have  whistled,  but  caution  checked 
him  in  the  act. 

"'Twas  a  kind  o'  mean  trick  in  Stubbs,"  he  said 
thoughtfully,  after  a  moment  of  silence.  "We  didn't 
kalkerlate  to  take  no  glass-ware  this  trip:  we  didn't 
pervide  for't.  An'  he  knew  it.  I  reckon  he  can  take 
keer  o'  his  own  darter,"  he  added,  with  the  air  of  a  man 
who  washes  his  hands  of  the  whole  affair. 

"Tony  thinks  we  can  do  it,"  said  Captain  Elyot 
quietly ;  "  and  Luttrell  has  consented." 

"  He  don't  think  so  for  nothin'.  I  take  it  'tain't  pure 
love  o'  God  in  either  of  'em.  Not  that  I've  any  thing 
to  say  agin  you,  Captain  Elyot.  But  why  didn't  Stubbs 
come  to  me  with  his  darter,  square-like,  before  we  left 
Independence?  I'd  'a'  said  to  him,  'Keep  the  gal  t' 
the  States,  for  the  present.  'Tain't  no  time  t'  be  teamin' 
\\iniiiiin-folks  over  the  trail,  nigh  on  ter  winter  as  'tis, 
an'  with  sech  a  fearsome  sperit  for  Injuns  as  I  be.' " 


46  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

"  But  the  girl  is  here." 

"  Wall,  wall,  'tain't  nuthin  t'  me.  But  I  wouldn't  'a' 
thought  it  o'  Stubbs.  Him  an  me's  been  pardners  for 
years.  But  ye'll  strike  a  crooked  trail  in  most  men,  an' 
where  ye  ain't  lookin'  for't ;  an',  ten  chances  t'  one,  it'll 
be  on  account  of  a  woman."  He  was  moving  away; 
but  he  turned  back  to  add,  "  Ef  ye  hold  t'  the  same 
mind,  ye'd  better  shet  Tony  Baird's  mouth,  an'  creep 
out  o'  camp  kind  o'  unbeknownst  t'  the  rest.  An'  it's 
tune  ye  were  off." 

"  I  gave  Stubbs  half  an  hour  to  meet  us  here.  It's 
hardly  up  yet.  And  I  cautioned  Tony  to  say  nothing 
about  the  affair  to  any  one.  Here  he  is  now,"  he  went 
on,  as  the  scout  came  up  through  the  darkness  from  the 
corral,  leading  his  horse.  A  servant  followed,  with 
Captain  Elyot's;  and  behind  them  appeared  a  third, 
leading  Black  Jess,  which  Captain  Luttrell  had  coveted 
at  the  sutler's  hands.  A  woman's  saddle  was  fitted  to 
her  back.  Stubbs  had,  perhaps,  foreseen  an  emergency 
like  this,  and  provided  for  it. 

"  I  was  ordered  to  bring  her  here,"  said  the  man  who 
held  the  bridle. 

Captain  Elyot  recognized  him  as  one  of  Stubbs's  team- 
sters, a  man  regularly  employed  about  the  fort. 

"  But  are  you  sure  she  is  safe  ?  " 

"  As  gentle  as  a  lamb,  sir ;  and  it  won't  be  the  first 
time  Miss  Blossom's  rode  her,  either,  or  since  we  left 
the  States,"  he  added  in  a  still  lower  tone,  and  with  a 
quiet  chuckle.  "Jess  knows  her,  —  don't  ye,  Jess?" 
And  he  stroked  the  face  of  the  beautiful  animal,  who 
rubbed  her  forehead  against  his  arm  with  a  whinny, 
which  seemed  in  response  to  his  words. 

Night  had  settled  lower  and  lower  upon  the  camp : 


HIS    INHERITANCE.  47 

beyond  the  darker  shadows  of  the  circling  wagons,  and 
the  still  forms  of  the  men  near  at  hand,  nothing  could 
be  discerned.  The  sentinels,  chilled  by  the  keen  air, 
huddled  in  pairs  close  to  the  ground,  wrapped  in  their 
blankets,  open-eyed,  attent,  but  silent  as  sphinxes.  The 
time  had  come  for  the  party  to  set  out  for  the  fort. 
They  waited  only  for  Blossom. 


48  HIS  INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"I'LL  BE  THE    FIKST  TO  MEET  YOU  WHEN  YOU    COME 

IN." 


wagon  in  which  Blossom  is  hidden  is  by  daylight 
the  shabbiest  in  the  train.  No  one  looking  upon 
it  from  the  outside  would  fancy  for  a  moment  that  any 
precious  thing  had  been  committed  to  its  keeping.  A 
time-worn,  dust-stained  "  tilt  "  is  stretched  over  its  ribs, 
showing  many  a  rent  and  clumsily-bestowed  patch  ;  the 
wheels  protest  loudly  against  each  revolution  ;  and  the 
joints  seem  about  to  wrench  themselves  apart  at  every 
lurch  over  the  uneven  ground.  But  this  shabbiness, 
after  all,  is  not  weakness.  It  has  been  added  to  and 
heightened  by  Stubbs  as  a  snare  and  a  delusion  ;  for 
Stubbs  is  not  the  first  man  whom  love  has  made  ingen- 
ious and  even  artful.  One  incongruity  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  team  did  awaken  comment  for  a  time.  The 
shabby  wagon  was  not  drawn  by  oxen,  as  were  most  of 
the  others  in  the  train,  but  by  stout,  strong  mules,  capable 
of  great  speed  if  put  to  the  test.  But  as  they  never 
have  been  put  to  the  test,  and  as  the  size  and  general 
appearance  of  the  wagon  gives  the  impression  of  weight, 
comment  gives  out  after  the  first  day  or  two,  and  goes 
to  sleep  again,  without  arousing  suspicion. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  49 

But  it  is  over  the  interior  arrangements  that  Stubbs's 
ingenuity  has  spread  itself,  and  borne  fruit.  The  outer 
covering  may  be  torn,  dexterously  and  never  to  the 
windward :  the  inner  (save  where  some  provision  has 
been  made  for  ventilation)  is  whole,  and  laughs  at  the 
rain.  If  any  one  were  curious  enough  to  search  beneath 
this,  he  would  still  be  baffled  by  the  craftiness  of  the 
little  sutler.  To  all  appearance  it  is  filled  with  rough 
deal  boxes,  packed  so  closely  together  as  to  leave  hardly 
a  crack  between.  But  really  each  one  has  been  sawed 
off  a  few  inches  from  the  end ;  and,  all  having  been  fas- 
tened firmly  together,  they  form  a  stout  wall  rising  half 
way  about  the  interior.  One  of  the  rough  planks,  when 
unfastened  from  within,  swings  back  to  form  a  door 
to  the  tiny  apartment,  which  is  thus  secured  from  all 
surprise.  The  narrow  walls  inside  are  hung  about  with 
scarlet  blankets,  the  floor  covered  with  fine  buffalo-skins, 
—  a  wise  precaution ;  for  the  cold  has  been  strengthening 
every  day.  A  pile  of  wolf-skins  in  one  corner  serves  for 
a  lounging-place  by  day  and  a  warm  couch  by  night ; 
or  a  hammock,  hanging  from  one  loop  now,  can  be 
stretched  across  the  diminutive  apartment  if  need  be. 
A  swinging-shelf  and  glass  serve  for  a  toilet-table  ;  a 
box,  deftly  concealed,  for  a  wardrobe ;  while  another 
shelf  holds  a  few  books ;  and  thrust  into  pockets,  which 
the  girl  has  amused  herself  by  attaching  to  the  hang- 
ings of  her  apartment,  are  all  the  little  knick-knacks  of 
use  or  fancy  which  a  thoroughly-indulged  young  person 
of  delicate  tastes  might  gather  about  herself,  fancying 
them,  after  a  time,  indispensable.  A  frail  work-basket, 
built,  it  would  seem,  upon  a  foundation  of  blue  ribbon 
and  straws,  which  the  wind  might  blow  away,  hangs 
suspended  over  the  wolf-skin  couch,  where  at  this 


50  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

moment  lies  a  half-completed  mystery  in  worsted  work. 
The  needle  is  thrust  in  as  though  it  had  been  hastily 
deserted ;  the  bright  wools  have  fallen  in  a  neglected 
tangle  upon  the  floor.  Ah,  Blossom,  Blossom !  are 
these  the  neat  habits  and  orderly  ways  you  are  carrying 
home,  after  so  many  years  of  training  in  the  States  ? 
But  where  is  the  little  mistress  of  the  place  ? 

She  is  standing  before  the  glass,  if  the  truth  must  be 
told,  enveloped  in  a  very  faint  glory  from  the  rays  of  a 
flickering  candle.  The  curtains  and  screens  so  carefully 
provided  shut  in  the  feeble  light  from  any  stray  passer 
outside.  A  soft  gray  gown  and  little  fur-lined  sack, 
from  which  she  seemed  to  have  slipped  just  now,  lie  on 
the  floor  at  her  feet.  She  is  arrayed  in  a  pair  of  full 
dark-blue  trousers  and  a  belted  blouse.  Under  the  stars 
this  might  well  pass  for  the  dress  of  a  boy.  She  is  draw- 
ing her  brown  hair  at  this  moment  into  a  loose  twist 
upon  the  crown  of  her  head,  covering  it  at  last  with  a 
broad-brimmed,  low-crowned  felt  hat.  Then  she  sur- 
veys herself  in  the  glass,  —  not  with  curiosity,  or  a 
shadow  of  coquettish  amusement  at  the  odd,  piquant 
little  figure  reflected  there.  She  turns  about,  sets  her 
hat  more  firmly  upon  her  head,  with  a  grave,  critical  air, 
and  with  even  a  touch  of  sadness  or  foreboding  in  the 
childish  countenance,  from  which  time  has  scarcely 
smoothed  away  the  baby-dimples  yet.  At  a  peculiar  tap 
upon  the  wall  behind  her,  she  starts  hurriedly,  and 
covers  the  candle  with  a  screen,  when  the  knock  is 
repeated.  She  draws  the  bolt  fastening  her  into  her 
hiding-place.  The  door  swings  into  the  little  room,  and 
Stubbs  follows  it. 

"  See !  I  have  dressed  as  you  bade  me,"  Blossom 
says.  She  uncovers  the  candle,  and  stands  in  its  trern- 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  51 

bling  light.  Her  eyes  are  dark,  and  her  face  is  pale, 
under  its  yellow,  flickering  rays.  "  Must  I  really  go, 
and  without  you?  I  am  afraid  when  I  think  of  it." 
There  is  a  break  in  her  voice,  the  slipping  of  a  string 
to  jar  the  melody.  "  The  night  is  so  dreadful ;  and  I 
heard  the  men  outside,  while  you  were  gone,  say  that 
the  Indians  had  risen  all  along  the  trail.  Is  that  why 
you  are  sending  me  away  ? "  She  threw  her  arms 
about  her  father,  and  tried  to  read  the  truth  in  his 
face. 

"  They  lied,  child :  there  wa'n't  no  truth  in  it.  They 
were  just  tryin'  to  scare  one  another;  that's  all." 
And  yet  should  he  let  her  go  away  with  no  suspicion 
of  the  truth?  She  would  be  sure  to  learn  something 
of  it  from  her  companions.  Would  it  not  be  better  for 
him  to  tell  her  now  ?  "  There  ain't  any  Injuns  within 
a  dozen  miles.  Some  o'  the  boys  reckoned  they  saw 
smoke  off  t'  the  so'th'ard,  where  there's  a  camp  most 
likely." 

"  Then  there  is  a  camp  ?     And  so  near ! " 

He  felt  the  girl  tremble  in  his  arms.  No,  he  could 
not  tell  her. 

"  Mebbe,"  he  said  slowly.  Oh  the  artful  simplicity 
and  doubt  in  his  voice  !  "  A  peaceful  kind  o'  camp, 
with  women  an'  children." 

Blossom  breathed  again.  But  still  she  hung  upon 
his  neck. 

"  Let  me  stay  with  you,"  she  pleaded.  "  I  wouldn't 
be  afraid  with  you." 

"  Ain't  I  been .  a  good  father  to  ye,  child  ?  "  The 
man's  breath  came  hoarse  and  heavy,  as  though  the 
weight  upon  his  breast  was  more  than  he  could  bear. 
"  Not  as  though  I'd  had  advantages,  an'  lived  t'  the 


52  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

States ;  but  ain't  I  been  as  good  as  I've  know'd  how  t' 
be?" 

"  Oh,  better  than  anybody  in  the  world ! "  sobbed 
the  girl. 

"  And  couldn't  ye  trust  me,  Blossom,  jest  this  once, 
and  go  like  a  good  gal  ?  I  ought  never  to  'a'  brought 
ye.  This  ain't  no  place  for  ye.  But  I  wanted  ye  so, 
child !  ye  don't  know ; "  and  he  stroked  the  shoulder 
of  the  girl  with  his  broad  rough  hand. 

Only  Blossom's  low  sobs  broke  the  silence  for  a  mo- 
ment. Then  she  raised  her  head.  "I'll  go,  father; 
and  I'll  try  not  to  be  afraid.  You'll  be  coming  soon  ?  " 
she  added  timidly. 

But  Stubbs  had  turned  his  back  upon  her. 

"  Don't  mind  about  me :  you'll  have  yer  mother ;  I 
ought  to  'a'  fetched  her  oftener  t'  see  ye.  She's  an 
uncommon  woman,  yer  mother  is.  She'll  do  more  for 
ye'n  ever  I  could."  But  his  voice  broke  over  the  last 
words. 

"  But  you  speak  as  if  —  as  if  you  were  not  coming  at 
all,"  burst  out  poor  Blossom,  frightened  at  she  knew 
not  what. 

"  To  be  sure  I'm  coming,"  said  Stubbs,  with  a  hoarse, 
broken  laugh.  "  You'll  be  lookin'  out  for  us  at  sunset 
to-morrow,  ef  there  don't  no  storm  set  in.  Or  don't  be 
watchin',  child ;  p'raps  we  sha'n't  get  in  till  daylight." 
He  was  kneeling  on  the  floor  as  he  spoke,  before  a  box 
bound  about  with  iron,  and  with  a  padlock  hanging  to 
it.  Out  from  its  depths  he  now  brought  a  small  pistol, 
beautified  with  chased  and  frosted  work  in  silver.  He 
put  it  into  her  hands.  "  Don't  be  scairt,"  for  she  had 
nearly  cried  out  when  she  saw  what  the  bauble  was. 
"  I  bought  it  for  ye,  child.  I  thought  'twould  please 


HIS   INIIEKITANCE.  53 

ye.  See,  there's  silver  an'  shinin'  stones  on  it."  He 
loaded  it  with  careful,  trembling  hands.  Then  he  came 
and  stood  beside  her,  and  showed  her  how  it  was  to  be 
held  and  cocked  and  fired.  Twice  over  he  did  this. 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do  with  it,  father  dear  ?  " 

"  I've  known  o'  women's  putting  'em  to  their  heads 
sooner'n  t'  fall  into  the  hands  o'  the  Injuns,"  he  said 
carelessly,  while  he  fitted  a  cap  to  it;  but  great  drops  of 
perspiration  started  out  on  his  forehead.  "  Just  wear  it 
in  yer  belt,  child,  so  :  'twont  do  no  harm,  an'  I  thought 
'twould  look  kind  o'  neat."  He  took  her  face  in  his 
hard  hands,  and  kissed  her  tenderly,  —  her  smooth  fore- 
head, her  soft  pretty  hair,  from  which  the  hat  had 
fallen.  "It's  time  ye  were  settin'  off,"  he  said:  "yell 
think  sometimes  of  yer  poor  old  father  ?  " 

"I  shall  think  of  you  all  the  way,"  said  Blossom; 
"  and  I'll  be  the  first  to  meet  you  when  you  come  in." 

"  I  wouldn't  be  lookin'  out :  'tain't  good  luck,  they 
say.  But  it's  time  ye  were  leavin'.  I'll  just  see  if 
they're  ready  for  ye."  He  put  the  little  fur-lined  jacket 
upon  her  with  clumsy  tenderness.  It  brought  back  her 
baby-days,  when  he  had  dressed  her  many  a  time. 
"  My  little  gal ! "  he  said  softly,  as  his  hand  brushed  her 
cheek.  He  had  raised  the  blanket  to  leave  her,  when  a 
new  thought  seemed  to  strike  him.  "  There  ain't  any 
such  thing  as  a  Bible  among  your  traps  ?  " 

Blossom's  eyes  opened  wide ;  but  she  silently  handed 
him  a  Testament  from  the  swinging-shelf  above  her. 

He  shook  his  head.  "Ye  might  read  a  word  or  two 
before  ye  start.  My  old  mother  set  a  store  by  that 
book.  She  used  to  read  it  to  me  when  I  was  a  little 
un.  There's  somethin'  in  it  about  *  long-suiferin'  an' 
tender  mercies.'  *  Long-sufferin','  "  he  repeated  slowly. 


54  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

"  That's  a  good  word.  It  sounds  kind  of  encouragin' 
to  a  man  that's  been  roughin'  it  here  for  most  twenty 
years."  Then  he  went  out  by  the  way  he  had  come  in, 
carefully  closing  the  door  after  him. 

Blossom  sat  down  upon  the  pile  of  skins  after  he  had 
gone.  Her  fears  had  been  much  more  over  the  dark- 
ness through  which  she  must  journey,  and  the  dread  of 
making  it  with  strange  companions,  than  of  any  actual 
danger.  But  she  was  accustomed  to  obedience,  and 
she  had  promised  to  go :  so  now  she  put  aside  her  ter- 
rors as  well  as  she  could,  and  set  herself  to  obeying  his 
parting  injunction.  She  opened  the  Testament  at  ran- 
dom, and  read  the  chapter  her  eyes  first  fell  upon.  It 
was  not  at  all  appropriate  to  her  situation,  but  she  read 
it  carefully  to  the  end ;  while  her  fears  crept  away  with 
soft-shod  feet,  and  her  anxiety  over  her  father  gradu- 
ally followed.  That  had  lingered  last,  an  indefinable 
pain  and  fear  connected  with  him ;  but  this,  too, 
slipped  away  as  she  read:  while  he,  searching  about 
in  the  darkness  for  Captain  Elyot  and  the  scout,  answer- 
ing the  challenges  of  the  sleepy  sentinels,  and  making 
hasty,  thoughtful  preparations  for  her  departure,  had 
bidden  her  already  a  last  farewell  in  his  heart. 

When  still  she  was  not  summoned,  she  busied  herself 
quite  simply,  putting  her  apartment  in  order,  as  though 
she  were  to  return  to  it  again.  These  natural,  every- 
day duties  helped  to  compose  her  mind ;  and  she  was 
ready  and  quite  calm  when  her  father  came,  a  few  mo- 
ments later,  with  a  cup  of  coffee  in  his  hand.  He 
brought  out  some  simple  food,  and  set  it  before  her. 
"  Ye  must  eat  and  drink,  child,  or  ye'll  be  faint,  an'  give 
out  before  ye  git  there."  He  held  the  cup  while  she 
drank.  It  was  baby  Blossom  again  in  his  arms. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  55 

"  D'ye  remember  how  I  carried  ye  all  night  long  when 
ye  were  down  with  the  fever  ?  There  couldn't  nobody 
else  give  ye  so  much  as  a  drop  o'  water." 

She  was  gentle  and  dainty,  and  not  like  him  or  his 
ways ;  but  she  had  chosen  him  before  all  the  others  in 
that  time,  so  long  ago.  Yes,  Blossom  remembered  well. 
But  it  brought  the  tears  to  her  eyes  to-night.  Why 
did  he  recall  it  now  ? 

He  pressed  her  to  eat.  He  waited  upon  her  like  a 
servant ;  no,  he  served  her  like  a  slave,  —  a  slave  who 
loved  his  chains.  But  the  bread  grew  more  and  more 
bitter  every  moment  to  Blossom,  who  swallowed  her 
tears  with  it. 

Every  sound  was  still :  even  the  animals  within  the 
corral  seemed  sleeping,  as  they  crept  out  of  the  wagon. 
The  darkness  was  only  a  dusky  gray.  The  great  white 
stars  were  pale  to-night.  The  sleeping  men  did  not 
stir  at  the  sound  of  their  feet  as  they  passed.  A  sen- 
tinel sprang  up  in  their  way,  but  at  a  low  word  he  fell 
back.  Three  horses  were  tied  to  one  of  the  wagons. 
Cogger  and  the  scout  and  another  figure  stood  by 
them. 

"  Is  that  you,  Stubbs  ?    This  way." 

Black  Jess  gave  a  whinny  of  welcome  as  the  girl 
brushed  by.  Some  one  lifted  her  into  the  saddle.  She 
was  trembling  with  fright  or  cold. 

"  You'll  take  care  of  her  ?  "  Stubbs  said  hoarsely. 

"  I  will,"  replied  a  suppressed  voice  at  her  elbow,  as 
her  foot  found  the  stirrup.  "  With  my  life,"  it  added. 

"  An'  —  if  the  wust  comes  "  — 

"  I'll  do  by  her  as  though  she  were  my  own  sister ; " 
and  Captain  Elyot  sprang  into  the  saddle,  and  took 
Blossom's  bridle  in  Ms  hand. 


56  HTS   INHERITANCE. 

"  I  b'lieve  ye." 

"  Come,  come,"  and  Cogger  pressed  in  between  them. 
"  'Tain't  no  time  for  manners.  The  moon'll  be  up 
afore  ye  know  it.  I  hope  ye  ain't  one  o'  the  screechin' 
kind  ?  "  to  Blossom. 

"I  —  I  don't  know." 

"  Ye'll  keep  quiet,  little  gal,  whatever  comes  ?  "  said 
Stubbs,  stroking  the  horse  upon  which  Blossom  was 
seated  —  with  what  tenderness ! 

"  Yes,  father." 

"  Because,"  Cogger  went  on,  "  I've  known  a  whole 
camp  o'  red-devils  turned  out  jest  by  the  screech  of 
a  woman.  Not  that  I  was  meanin'  t'  speak  ha'sh  t' 
ye,"  he  went  on  apologetically,  examining  her  bridle, 
and  giving  a  critical  shake  to  the  saddle ;  "  but  ye  see, 
fur  myself,  I'm  powerful  skeert  ov  Injuns,  and  hate 
most  awful  to  wake  'em  up.  Wall,  that's  about  all. 
-  Ye  can  tell  the  major,"  addressing  himself  to  Captain 
Elyot,  "  ef  he  could  spare  us  a  company  o'  reg'lars, 
we'd  be  obleeged  to  him." 

"  To-morrow,"  whispered  Blossom,  leaning  down,  and 
throwing  her  arms  around  her  father's  neck.  "  Don't 
tell  me  not  to  watch  for  you.  I'll  be  the  first  to  meet 

you." 

Poor  Stubbs  tried  to  speak,  but  the  words  would  not 
come.  He  felt  her  warm  kisses  on  his  face,  then  she 
was  gone.  The  three  figures  moved  off  slowly,  until 
the  darkness  shut  Blossom  from  her  father's  sight. 

He  strained  his  eyes  till  they  could  serve  him  no  lon- 
ger ;  then  he  dropped  upon  the  ground,  and  listened  to 
the  muffled  sound  of  the  horses'  hoofs,  till  that,  too, 
died  away.  Cogger  moved  uneasily  about  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, and  finally  joined  him. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  57 

"Ye'd  better  sleep  while  ye  ken,"  he  said,  ostenta- 
tiously wrapping  his  blanket  about  himself. 

"  Thar  ain't  no  sleep  for  me,"  replied  the  little  sutler, 
resting  his  face  upon  his  hands,  and  staring  straight  into 
the  darkness  where  Blossom  had  disappeared. 

"  Kind  o'  low  in  yer  mind,  ain't  ye  ?  "  queried  Cogger. 
"  But,  Lord,  man  I  they'll  git  in.  I'll  trust  Tony  for 
that." 

"  I  ought  never  to  'a'  brought  her,"  pursued  Stubbs 
gloomily. 

"  Thet's  so,"  said  the  wagon-master.  "  Thet's  what 
I  said  t'  the  cap'n.  'Twarn't  quite  the  squar'  thing. 
Howsomever,  I  don't  bear  no  grudge  agin  ye." 

But  even  this  generous  concession  failed  to  comfort 
Stubbs. 

"  You  see,  I  kind  o'  hankered  after  her,"  he  went  on, 
partly  to  himself. 

"  I  s'pose  so,"  said  Cogger.  "  They  seem  to ;  though 
I  don't  know  much  about  wimmin  myself.  They  'pear 
mostly  to  be  gittin'  in  folks's  way.  There  was  a  gal, 
once,  down  Washita  way,"  he  added  after  a  reflective 
pause.  "  H'm,  ye  should  'a'  heerd  that  gal  laugh !  But 
I  ain't  much  to  look  at  myself,"  he  went  on,  "  an'  that 
goes  a  long  way  with  wimmin.  Though  I  hev  thought 
—  but  thar,  most  likely  she  wouldn't  'a'  looked  at  sech 
a  poor-sperited  creeter." 

And,  after  this  remarkable  piece  of  confidence,  Cog- 
ger did  at  last  roll  himself  into  a  gray  cocoon,  and 
resign  himself  to  sleep. 

When  he  was  still,  Stubbs  rose  quietly,  and  strolled 
off  to  his  wagons,  entering  the  one  Blossom  had  occu- 
pied. There  was  no  confusion  of  hurried  departure 
here.  Every  thing  was  tidy  and  in  its  place.  Even 


58  HIS   INHEKITANCE. 

the  gray  gown,  hardly  yet  cold  from  her  form,  was  fold- 
ed neatly,  and  lay  upon  the  pile  of  wolf-skins  where 
the  little  figure  had  rested  so  many  times.  He  took  the 
soft  fabric  between  his  hands.  It  was  like  Blossom,  it 
was  almost  a  part  of  herself;  and  he  stroked  it  gently, 
until,  in  the  working  of  his  mind,  his  hand  forgot  the 
motion.  No  one  had  thought  to  put  out  the  candle. 
It  burned  low,  and  there  was  a  winding-sheet  about  it, 
if  the  man  had  but  looked  to  see.  After  a  time  he 
roused  himself,  searched  around  for  a  moment,  then 
took  an  old  memorandum-book  from  his  pocket,  and 
began  to  write. 

It  was  a  brief  record  which  he  made ;  but  he  hesitat- 
ed long  over  it,  and  finished  it  with  a  sigh  at  last.  He 
tore  out  the  leaf,  and,  after  a  moment  of  consideration, 
pinned  it  to  the  little  gray  gown.  Then  he  went  out, 
and  lay  down  with  the  rest. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  59 


CHAPTER  V. 
"A  GIRL!  WHO  WOULD  HAVE  THOUGHT  IT?" 

rriHE  moon  has  been  up  for  an  hour,  and  shines 
J-  white  and  cold  over  the  level  stretch  of  sandy 
plain  around  Fort  Atchison.  The  river  sleeps  in  its 
shallow  bed  under  a  thin  coverlet  of  ice.  The  very 
night  itself  seems  sleeping,  or  would  but  for  this  one 
open  eye  coldly  staring  down.  The  sentinels,  with  the 
capes  of  their  coats  muffled  about  their  heads,  pace 
off  the  weary  time,  longing  for  the  hour  of  relief,  yet 
stolidly  going  their  rounds. 

One,  more  alive  than  the  rest,  suddenly  halts  in  his 
steps  to  listen.  A  faint,  continuous,  and  increasing 
sound  has  scattered  the  stillness  hanging  over  the  fort. 
It  breaks  at  length  into  the  thud  of  hoofs  upon  the 
frozen  ground.  A  dark  speck  upon  the  eastern  horizon 
is  growing  each  moment.  It  divides  into  two  —  or  three 
—  moving  objects.  "  Buffaloes,"  mutters  the  man  with 
faint  interest.  A  dStour  throws  the  figures,  still  draw- 
ing near,  against  the  pale  sky.  "  Injuns !  "  he  utters 
aloud,  and  begins  to  feel  the  stirring  of  a  soul  within 
his  torpid  body.  Other  ears  have  caught  the  sound. 
Heads  are  thrust  out  of  hastily  opened  windows,  voices 
follow ;  nearer  and  nearer  stretch  the  mounted  figures 


60  HIS  INHEKITANCE. 

in  a  straight  line  for  the  gate.  "  Tony  Baird,  by !  " 

exclaims  the  sentinel,  and  calls  for  the  corporal  of  the 
guard,  as  the  scout,  followed  by  Captain  Elyot,  support- 
ing what  seems  to  be  a  boyish  figure  upon  the  horse 
beside  him,  sweeps  up  to  the  gate. 

In  a  moment  they  are  within  and  surrounded.  Even 
Mrs.  Bryce,  wife  of  the  major  commanding  at  the  post, 
follows  her  husband,  having  donned  those  articles  of 
apparel  first  in  hand,  and  which,  it  must  be  confessed, 
are  neither  numerous  nor  becoming.  But  she  is  an  old 
campaigner,  and  knows  the  advantage  of  being  to  the 
front  at  once. 

Claudia  Bryce,  the  major's  daughter,  and  Miss  Laud, 
who  is  paying  her  a  long  visit,  run  out,  muffled  up  to 
their  eyes,  and  join  the  gathering  crowd  about  Captain 
Elyot,  just  as  the  young  man  has  told  his  story,  and 
delivered  his  despatches  into  the  hands  of  the  major. 
"  We  crept  by  their  camp  not  six  miles  from  the  wag- 
ons; but,  what  with  the  distance  and  the  darkness,  we 
could  not  estimate  their  number." 

The  bugle  sounds  "  To  horse ! "  rousing  the  last 
sleeper,  and  awakening  general  confusion.  There  are 
calls  and  shouts,  and  a  hasty  running  to  and  fro,  with 
the  trampling  of  iron-shod  feet,  while  the  women  press 
curiously  around  Captain  Elyot,  who  is  lifting  Blossom 
from  her  horse.  They  stare  at  her  nondescript  dress, 
when  all  at  once  her  hat  falls  off,  and  her  pretty  brown 
hair  comes  rolling  down  over  her  shoulders. 

"  A  girl !     Who  would  have  thought  it  ?  " 

"  Scandalous ! "  whispers  Miss  Bryce,  who  would 
have  been  a  fright  in  such  a  costume. 

"  Poor  child  I     What  a  sweet  face !  "  says  another. 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  rustles  all  through  the  little  crowd. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  61 

Even  her  strange  dress  and  unconscious  condition  can- 
not hide  the  attributes  of  a  lady.  She  must  be  some 
one  of  distinction,  bound  for  a  post  farther  on. 

"  Nae  gude,  I  daresay,"  ventures  Jinny,  Mrs.  Bryce's 
overgrown  Scotch  maid,  who  stands  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  assembled  company,  her  hands  upon  her  hips,  pre- 
pared to  defy  the  Devil  and  all  his  works  as  displayed 
in  the  person  of  Blossom. 

But  there  is  no  end  to  the  officiousness  of  those  near 
by.  "  Bring  her  to  our  house,"  says  the  major's  wife, 
bustling  up  with  an  air  of  command.  "  Get  your  salts, 
Claudia,  quick :  she  seems  to  have  fainted." 

"  Where  is  her  mother  ?  Will  nobody  call  her  moth- 
er? "  Captain  Elyot  exclaims  impatiently,  trying  to  push 
his  way  as  well  as  he  can,  for  the  burden  in  his  arms, 
through  the  crowd  of  females,  each  one  of  whom,  unless 
it  be  strong-minded  Jinny,  has  something  to  suggest  or 
offer.  "  She's  only  frightened  half  to  death."  Then,  in 
the  silence  that  has  dropped  on  the  little  company,  he 
explains  hastily,  "  She  is  Stubbs's  daughter.  Where  is 
her  mother  ?  " 

"  Oh !  "  and  the  crowd  fell  back  to  a  woman,  liter- 
ally to  a  woman ;  for  Jinny  alone  stood  her  ground. 

"  Who'd  'a'  believed  it !  Stubbs's  lass !  I'll  fetch  her 
mither,  mon,  if  ye'll  bide  here.  Or  maybe  ye'd  best 
follow.  An'  t'  think,"  said  she  to  herself,  when  she  had 
started  off  at  a  galloping  pace  more  swift  than  graceful, 
—  "  t'  think  I  should  'a'  ta'en  her  to  be  the  Devil's  ain ! 
But  beauty's  aye  deceitfu',"  she  added  by  way  of  excuse. 
"An'  who'd  'a'  thought  Stubbs's  lass  would  'a'  been  sae 
bonnie  ! " 

Half  way  to  the  sutler's  quarters  they  met  Mrs. 
Stubbs,  to  whom  the  birds  of  the  air  had  perhaps  carried 
the  news. 


62  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

"  An'  did  you  bring  her  in,  Cap'n  Elyot  ?  "  said  the 
woman,  receiving  the  girl  in  her  strong  arms,  without  a 
word  of  love  or  welcome  over  the  unconscious  form. 
"  It's  a  good  night's  work  you've  done  for  yourself. 
We  sha'n't  be  forgetting  it  in  a  hurry.  But  is  it  true 
that  the  Injuns  are  out  on  the  trail  ?  " 

She  was  holding  the  girl  close  in  her  arms.  The 
rising  wind  had  seized  the  red  shawl  she  had  thrown 
hastily  over  her  head  when  she  ran  out  at  the  exciting 
news.  It  caught  the  long  loose  locks  of  her  straight 
black  hair,  and  blew  it  about  her  face,  where  the  color 
came  and  went,  as  she  asked  this  question,  like  the  pale 
and  glow  of  the  iron  under  the  hammer. 

"  Yes :  we  passed  a  large  camp  less  than  a  dozen  miles 
from  here.  But  the  wagons  were  safe  enough  a  couple 
of  hours  ago.  I'm  going  back  now  with  re-enforce- 
ments to  bring  them  in.  Any  message  for  your  hus- 
band?" 

The  woman  was  moving  off  already  with  her  burden. 
There  was  no  change  in  her  countenance  at  this  corrob- 
oration  of  her  fears. 

"You  might  tell  him  not  to  throw  himself  into  the 
thick  of  it.  He  ain't  so  spry  as  he  used  to  be,"  she 
added  as  an  apology  for  the  caution.  "  But,  man,  come 
on  to  the  house,  and  I'll  get  ye  a  bite  an'  something  to 
keep  the  cold  out." 

"  Thanks,  but  we're  off  now ; "  and  he  took  the  bridle 
of  the  fresh  horse  from  the  servant  who  led  it  up  at  the 
moment. 

"  Bide  at  our  house,  mon.  I'd  set  ye  out  something 
in  a  wink ;  an'  the  leddies  'ud  be  proud  to  see  ye,"  said 
Jinny,  who  lingered  near. 

"  Thanks,  Jinny ;  but  I  shall  fare  as  well  as  the  rest 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  63 

of  them.  I'll  pay  my  respects  to  the  ladies  to-morrow, 
if  we  have  good  luck.  Take  care  that  Sergeant  Mc- 
Dougal  doesn't  run  his  head  against  a  bullet,  Jinny,  and 
good-by  to  you." 

At  this  thrust  the  girl  threw  her  apron  over  her 
head,  with  a  bashful  giggle. 

"  O  Jinny ! "  He  reined  in  his  horse.  "  Look  in 
on  Mrs.  Stubbs  by  and  by ,  and,  if  you  can  do  any  thing 
for  the  daughter,  I'll  make  it  up  —  to  the  sergeant!" 
And  his  horse's  hoofs  rattled  over  the  ground  as  he 
dashed  to  the  head  of  the  troop,  and  rode  out  at  the 
gate. 

The  clank  and  jingle  of  accoutrements,  with  the  thud 
of  hoofs,  died  away,  and  the  company  of  riders  was 
soon  only  a  cloud  of  dust  under  the  paling  moon.  The 
gates  were  closed,  and  securely  fastened:  the  crowd 
scattered,  the  ladies  suddenly  aware  that  broad  day- 
light would  hardly  find  presentable  a  costume  which 
might  be  picturesque  enough  at  a  midnight  alarm. 
Reveille  sounded.  The  routine  of  the  day  began,  the 
garrison  being  quickened  into  unusual  activity  by  the 
news  Captain  Elyot  had  brought  in.  Sleep  was  not  to 
be  thought  of  in  the  midst  of  such  excitement.  Even 
the  ladies  at  headquarters  had  no  intention  of  seeking 
their  beds  again,  though  daylight  had  hardly  streaked 
the  east. 

"  We  may  as  well  make  ourselves  comfortable,"  said 
Claudia  Bryce,  the  major's  daughter,  wrapping  a  plaid 
about  her  shoulders,  and  curling  herself  upon  the  outside 
of  the  bed  in  the  low  narrow  room  that  was  Claudia's 
"bower,"  while  waiting  for  Jinny  to  come  and  light 
her  fire. 

"  My  flesh  fairly  creeps,"  said  Miss  Laud,  preparing 


64  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

to  follow  her  example.  "  Are  you  sure,  Claudia,  there 
is  no  danger  of  their  attacking  the  fort  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  sure,"  Claudia  responded  coolly.  "  It  is 
only  a  thieving  expedition  —  after  the  wagons." 

"  But,  if  they  attack  the  wagons,  there  will  be  fight- 
ing." 

"  Perhaps ;  though  they  are  much  more  likely  to  run 
when  they  see  the  troops,  and  know  that  the  post  is 
aroused." 

Then  they  came  back  to  the  incident  which  had  so 
startled  them. 

"It  was  quite  dramatic,"  said  Miss  Laud  lightly. 
"  Really,  Claudia,  in  a  play  nothing  could  be  more  effec- 
tive. And  what  an  odd  dress !  One  would  have 
taken  her  to  be  a  boy,  but  for  that  unlucky  hat.  Pray, 
do  you  army  ladies  affect  such  costumes  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  Claudia  replied  with  emphasis.  "  No 
lady  in  the  army,  or  anywhere  else,  would  think  of  wear- 
ing such  a  dress." 

"  Then  I  conclude,  my  dear,  that  you  do  not  consider 
this  young  person  to  be  a  lady." 

"  A  lady !  "  repeated  Miss  Bryce  in  scorn.  "  What 
are  you  thinking  of,  Kitty.  You  heard  him  call  for  her 
mother.  She  is  the  sutler's  daughter.  You  remember 
Mrs.  Stubbs  ?  You  bought  your  worsteds  of  her  yes- 
terday." 

"It  can't  be  possible,  Claudia!  That  dreadful 
woman  !  But  the  daughter  is  very  pretty,"  Miss  Laud 
persisted,  — "  far  prettier  than  any  girl  at  the  post, 
unless,  dear,  we  except  ourselves,  as  is  quite  proper  and 
right,"  she  added  with  a  laugh. 

"  She  is  extremely  artful,"  retorted  Miss  Bryce,  who 
did  not  smile  over  her  friend's  pleasantry.  "  Did  you 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  65 

see  how  her  hair  fell  down  just  at  the  right  moment, 
when  Captain  Elyot  lifted  her  from  her  horse  ?  " 

Miss  Bryce's  own  locks  were  heavy  and  blonde  ;  but 
they  lay,  for  the  most  part,  upon  the  dressing-table 
before  her. 

"O  Claudia!  you  can't  believe  that  she  pulled  out 
the  pins ! " 

"I  can  believe  any  thing  of  that  class  of  people," 
Claudia  answered  scornfully. 

"My  dear,  you  are  at  odds  with  your  conditions. 
You  should  have  been  born  an  English  duchess,  to  talk 
of  '  that  class  of  people ! '  Whatever  the  cause,  the 
tableau  was  very  effective,"  yawned  Miss  Laud,  pulling 
the  wrap  up  to  her  pink  and  white  chin ;  for  the  morn- 
ing was  chilly,  and  Jinny  unaccountably  delayed.  "And 
mademoiselle,  the  sutler's  daughter,  has  come  to  stay  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  believe  so,  unless  some  unexpected  piece  of 
good  fortune  removes  the  whole  family." 

"  You  will  hardly  think  it  necessary  to  call  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  not." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  rather  dull  for  the  poor  thing. 
She  certainly  had  the  appearance  of  a  lady." 

"  I  am  not  responsible  for  such  a  misfortune,"  Claudia 
responded  coldly. 

"  And  that  was  Captain  Elyot,"  Miss  Laud  went  on 
meditatively.  "Claudia,  why  did  you  never  tell  me 
hdw  handsome  he  is?" 

"  And  he  never  looked  at  me,  though  I  stood  directly 
before  him,"  burst  out  Miss  Bryce,  who  could  keep 
back  no  longer  the  cause  of  her  extraordinary  ill-humor. 
"  He  has  been  away  three  months,  and  comes  back  to 
ask  for  —  Mrs.  Stubbs !  " 

"  Be  reasonable,  dear.     Think  of  the  excitement  of 


66  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

the  moment,  his  haste,  the  errand  he  had  come  on,  and 
that  girl  in  his  arms  to  be  disposed  of.  He  was  be- 
wildered with  questions  "  — 

"  But  he  was  not  blind." 

"  And,  even  if  you  were  close  beside  him,  he  might 
not  have  recognized  you  —  in  the  dark." 

"  O  Kitty !  it  was  a  bright  moonlight." 

"  Between  moonlight  and  dawn,  dear,  and  we  wrapped 
up  like  Esquimaux."  (And  really  Claudia  was  very 
plain,  and  not  at  all  like  herself  in  a  neglectful  or  hur- 
ried toilet,  thought  Miss  Laud  in  the  very  depths  of 
her  soul.)  "Still  he  might  have  given  you  a  look, 
a  word,  —  and  you  almost  engaged  to  him,"  she  added 
inconsistently. 

"  I  never  said  that,  Kitty." 

"  But  you  told  me  of  his  constant  visits  and  his  de- 
votion, before  he  went  East.  If  such  conduct  has  any 
meaning —  which  it  frequently  has  not,  I  must  confess," 
she  added  frankly. 

"  How  do  I  know  that  he  may  not  have  been  equally 
devoted  to  this  girl?"  asked  Claudia,  hot  and  suspi- 
cious. "Think  of  the  long  journey  across  the  plains 
together!  Chance,  rather  than  choice,  breeds  love, 
Kitty.  Oh,  you  know  it  does !  And,  though  he  rode 
in  before  my  eyes,  he  never  gave  me  a  thought.  It 
was  all  for  this  girl  and  her  mother." 

"  To  get  rid  of  her,  dear.  But  don't  cry,  pray  don't. 
Jinny  will  come,  and  everybody  will  wonder  at  your  red 
eyes.  And  will  you  let  me  give  you  a  piece  of  advice  ?  " 

Claudia  regarded  her  friend  inquiringly. 

"  Go  and  call  upon  this  girl  at  once,  to-day.  Oh ! 
there  is  nothing  in  it.  She  looked  like  a  child." 

"  Go  and  call  ?  "  repeated  Miss  Bryce.  Indignation 
dried  up  her  tears.  "  Never !  " 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  67 

"No,  I  don't  suppose  you  will,"  Miss  Laud  said 
slowly,  entirely  unmoved  by  Claudia's  wrath,  directed 
now  to  herself.  "I  don't  suppose  I  should  myself. 
But  I  am  convinced  that  would  be  the  best  thing  to  do, 
although  very  likely  I  shouldn't  do  it.  But  at  least 
you  will  not  show  any  annoyance  when  he  comes  back  ? 
You  will  appear  the  same  as  usual  to  him  ?  " 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  appear  the  same  ?  "  replied  Clau- 
dia, turning  upon  her  friend.  "  He  is  nothing  to  me," 
she  added,  with  a  rather  late  assumption  of  dignity. 
Then  she  had  nearly  broken  down  again.  "  There  are 
others  more  mindful  of  me  than  he  shows  himself  to 
be,"  she  said  with  a  choking  voice. 

"  To  be  sure  there  are."  Miss  Laud  hastened  to  con- 
cur with  her.  "  Lieutenant  Gibbs,  for  instance,  who 
would  cut  off  his  head  for  you  any  day.  I  am  not  so 
sure  that  he  would  sacrifice  his  mustache." 

"Why  do  you  speak  of  that  idiot?"  Claudia  said 
crossly. 

And  then  Jinny  did  at  last  appear  to  light  the  fire, 
an  interruption  Miss  Laud  secretly  rejoiced  in.  Clau- 
dia's manner  had  become  decidedly  disagreeable,  and 
she  was  glad  that  the  conversation  had  come  to  an  end. 
She  hastened  to  dress,  in  order  to  leave  the  room  before 
Jinny  had  finished  her  task.  Left  to  herself,  Claudia 
might  recover  her  usual  tolerable  humor,  and  even  con- 
sider her  advice.  It  could  not  be  that  she  was  so  weak 
as  to  show  herself  mortified  and  angry  to  her  friends, 
who  would  easily  divine  the  cause,  and,  above  all,  to 
Captain  Elyot  himself ! 


68  HIS   INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

COMING   HOME. 

ALL  day  long  Blossom  lay  upon  the  bed  her  mother 
had  aired  and  spread  with  her  own  hands  in  ex- 
pectation of  her  coming.  Much  of  the  time  she  was 
alone,  lying  with  close-shut  eyes,  hearing  her  mother's 
sharp,  quick  voice,  and  the  half-breed  Tolee's  muttered 
replies  through  the  thin  partition,  as  in  a  dream.  Tolee 
moved  about  lazily  among  her  pots  and  pans  in  the 
kitchen.  Not  even  the  coming  home  of  her  young 
mistress,  or  the  expected  arrival  of  her  master  with  the 
friends  he  might  bring  to  sup  with  him,  could  rouse  her. 
But  Mrs.  Stubbs  was  alert  and  everywhere,  tasting 
of  the  simmering  preparations  for  a  feast  already  under 
way  in  the  kitchen,  peering  with  curiosity  and  pride 
over  Blossom's  pillows,  and  answering  the  constant 
summons  to  the  store.  Was  there  always  this  strange, 
loud  restlessness  about  the  woman,  moving  the  very 
air  perceptibly?  Blossom  felt  her  coming  before  she 
drew  near;  her  heart  beat  quickly;  involuntarily  she 
closed  her  eyes,  and  feigned  sleep.  She  was  half  afraid 
of  this  mother,  with  her  sharp  voice  and  abrupt  ways, 
so  unlike  the  gentle  manners  to  which  the  girl  had  be- 
come accustomed.  Had  she  really  come  home?  Do 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  69 

our  friends  come  to  us  when  they  stand  before  our  glad 
eyes,  and  lay  their  hands  in  ours  ?  Are  not  the  distant 
often  nearer,  the  dead  even,  more  truly  present  ?  Blos- 
som's heart,  with  the  first  moment  of  consciousness,  had 
travelled  back  over  the  trail  to  the  wagon-train.  The 
brown,  rolling  land  was  around  her  again.  Again  she 
heard  the  creak  of  the  slow-moving  wheels.  Screened 
by  the  darkness,  she  had  mounted  Black  Jess,  and  rode 
by  her  father's  side.  Then  her  dream  vanished  as  she 
opened  her  eyes,  and  saw  her  mother  standing  by  the 
bed  with  a  tray  in  her  hand.  The  woman  had  come 
in  with  careful  step,  almost  afraid  that  a  breath  might 
blow  away  the  pretty  creature  lying  on  the  pillows, 
and  whom  she  could  hardly  yet  realize  to  be  her  own. 

"  You  must  try  to  eat  a  bit,"  she  said,  setting  down 
her  tray.  "  It's  wearing  toward  night,  and  not  a  mouth- 
ful have  you  taken  to-day." 

"Night?"  repeated  Blossom,  sitting  up  in  a  little 
flurry  of  excitement.  "I  ought  not  to  have  slept  so 
long.  They'll  be  coming  in,  and  I  promised  "  — 

"  There's  time  enough,"  said  the  woman ;  but  her 
hand  shook  nervously  as  she  set  out  the  tray,  and  gave 
the  little  bowl  of  steaming  broth  to  Blossom.  "  It's  a 
long  hour  to  dark  yet,  and  they  won't  come  before 
that." 

She  moved  about  restlessly  while  Blossom  sipped  her 
broth.  More  than  once  she  pulled  the  curtain,  and 
looked  out  upon  the  waning  day.  A  fierce  wind  swept 
by :  the  great  snow-clouds  that  had  been  rolling  up  for 
hours,  now  spread  out  a  solid  phalanx. 

"There's  snow  in  the  air,"  she  said  with  a  shiver: 
"  I've  felt  it  all  day.  There'll  be  a  storm  to-morrow." 

"But  they'll  be  in  before  that." 


70  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

Content,  and  a  hope  that  was  like  assurance,  had 
come  to  Blossom  with  the  spoonfuls  of  warm  broth  she 
was  sipping. 

"  Yes,  long  before  that,"  the  mother  repeated  hastily. 
She  left  the  window,  and  from  the  foot  of  the  bed 
watched  the  girl  as  she  ate,  but  with  an  ear  for  every 
sound  outside.  They  ought  to  come  in  now,  this  mo- 
ment: they  should  have  been  in  an  hour  ago,  if  no 
harm  had  befallen  them.  If  she  could  but  see  and 
know  the  worst !  If  she  could  have  borne  the  brunt  of 
it  instead  of  Stubbs !  who  was  not  indeed,  as  she  had 
told  Captain  Elyot,  the  man  he  had  been  once.  Ah !  to 
wait  and  listen  was  like  being  bound  with  chains.  The 
wind  seemed  to  bring  strange,  frightened  voices :  the  air 
was  full  of  cries  as  she  moved  to  the  window  again. 
The  dog  in  his  kennel  just  outside  howled  a  warning 
for  somebody.  Blossom,  unconscious  of  her  mother's 
anxiety,  had  begun  to  lose  something  of  her  timidity. 
She  prattled  like  a  child,  —  now  of  her  father,  of  the 
train,  of  her  joy  at  coming  home. 

"  I  should  have  been  quite  happy,"  she  ran  on,  "  if 
aunt  Julia  had  not  been  so  sad  over  my  coming  away." 

"  She's  no  aunt  of  yours,"  Mrs.  Stubbs  said  sharply, 
suddenly  recalled  from  her  own  thoughts.  "  And  she's 
forgot  it,  most  likely,  by  this  time." 

"  I  think  she  can't  have  quite  forgotten  it  so  soon." 
Tears  had  come  into  Blossom's  eyes  at  this  rough-shod 
comfort.  "  And  she  was  very  kind,  and  wished  me  to 
call  her  aunt.  Nobody  could  have  been  so  kind,"  the 
girl  went  on  —  "  unless,"  she  added,  suddenly  mindful 
to  whom  she  was  speaking,  "  it  were  you  or  dear  father." 
Her  tears  were  falling  now. 

"Don't   cry,  child,"    Mrs.  Stubbs   said  impatiently. 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  71 

"  She  set  a  store  by  you,  I  don't  doubt;  but  that's  past 
and  gone." 

"  She  has  hardly  any  one  in  the  world  but  me,"  Blos- 
som persisted,  little  dreaming  of  the  jealous  pain  she 
aroused  in  her  mother's  heart. 

No  one  but  her!  And  did  this  woman  who  had 
cared  for  Blossom  so  many  years  really  lay  claim  to  the 
child?  She  had  been  hired  to  shelter  and  teach  her. 
The  term  of  service  was  over.  There  was  an  end  of 
it. 

"  But  I  shall  see  her  again.  She  will  come  to  us,  or 
we  shall  go  there;  "  and  Blossom  wiped  away  her  tears. 

"  You're  low  from  the  fright  and  all,"  Mrs.  Stubbs 
said  evasively.  Come  to  them?  or  they  go  to  her? 
Never!  the  woman  said  in  her  heart,  losing  sight  of 
every  thing,  for  the  moment,  but  that  this  woman  had 
won  the  child's  love  to  herself.  But  Blossom  would 
forget.  Her  own  life  had  been  too  full  from  day  to  day 
to  hold  repinings :  so  it  musfr  be  with  the  child.  And 
she  held  in  the  bitter  words  on  her  lips.  "  You'll  be 
better  in  the  morning.  The  scare  was  too  much  for 
you.  Lord!  when  I  was  your  age  I'd  have  thought 
nothing  of  a  gallop  of  twenty  miles,  or  a  brush  with 
the  red-skins  either.  But  girls  ain't  now  what  they 
used  to  be.  Why,  I've  heard  Miss  Claudia  here  screech 
out  ut  a  striped  snake  I  could  V  killed  with  the  heel 
<>!'  my  shoe." 

"  Miss  Claudia ! "  Blossom  caught  at  the  name. 

"Yes,  the  major's  daughter.  You  must  have  seen 
her.  She  was  out  with  the  rest  of  'em  when  you  came 
in  this  morning.  But  I  forgot :  you  didn't  know  any 
thing  about  it.  She's  a  friend  of  the  cap'n's,  —  Cap'n 
Elyot."  Blossom's  face  warmed  into  interest  at  this 


72  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

name.  The  mother  marked  it.  "  They  did  say  he  was 
paying  attention  to  her  before  he  got  leave,  and  left  for 
the  States;  but  I  never  believed  it.  He  can  see  as 
far  as  the  best  of  'em ;  and  she's  false,  Miss  Claudia  is." 
Mrs.  Stubbs  made  this  damaging  statement  against  the 
major's  daughter  as  calmly  as  though  it  had  been  the 
mildest  innuendo.  "  But  I  reckon  you  saw  a  good  deal 
of  the  captain  on  the  way  out,"  she  added  slyly,  watch- 
ing the  girl,  whose  face  was  turned  toward  her. 

"  Yes,"  Blossom  said  slowly,  unconscious  of  this 
espionage :  "  I  saw  him  often  riding  with  the  others.  I 
came  to  know  his  face  quite  well." 

"He's  a  pleasant-spoken  young  man.  Many's  the 
evening  he's  spent  here,  smoking  a  pipe  with  your  fa- 
ther, or  taking  a  hand  at  cards  with  the  rest  of  'em." 

"I  never  heard  him  speak,"  Blossom  said  thought- 
fully, "  or  only  once.  It  was  the  night  before  we  left 
the  train,  —  last  night.  How  long  ago  it  seems !  I 
climbed  down  from  the  wagon  (it  was  dark,  you  know) 
for  a  breath  of  air,  and  —  and  I  met  him  face  to 
face." 

"  He  had  a  pleasant  word  for  you,  I'll  warrant." 

Blossom  did  not  say  that  she  had  given  him  no  oppor- 
tunity to  offer  such  a  word.  "  He  apologized,  and  went 
away,"  she  said ;  but  she  blushed  a  little,  remembering 
how  she  had  begged  him  to  go.  She  must  have  ap- 
peared very  silly  in  his  eyes. 

"  But  there  was  the  long  ride  to  the  fort,"  persisted 
the  mother,  anxious  to  know  how  far  this  most  fortu- 
nate acquaintance  had  progressed.  "  It  don't  stand  to 
reason  that  he  never  spoke  to  you  once  on  the  way." 

"  I  hardly  know,  I  cannot  remember ;  but  I  was  so 
frightened  at  last !  "  Blossom  lost  sight  of  every  thing 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  73 

else  in  the  recollection  of  it.  "  We  rode  close  to  their 
camp,  so  close,  that  we  thought  we  had  roused  them.  I 
shall  never  forget  it ! "  And  the  girl  began  to  tremble, 
covering  her  face. 

"  There,  don't  think  about  it,"  said  the  mother,  who 
hardly  knew  how  to  deal  with  fancies  and  fears  so  un- 
like her  own.  "It'll  pass  out  of  your  mind  when 
you've  slept  on  it.  Yes,  he's  a  real  gentleman,  Cap'n 
Elyot  is,"  she  went  on,  going  back  to  the  first  subject. 
"Stubbs'll  give  him  something  handsome  when  he 
comes  in,  though  ten  chances  to  one  he  won't  take  it ; 
he's  that  proud,  Cap'n  Elyot  is.  But  we'll  ask  him  to 
supper.  Your  father'll  know  I'm  getting  ready  for  'em, 
and'll  bring  him  here,  I  don't  doubt." 

"And  you  think  there  is  no  danger?  "  Blossom  inquired 
in  a  trembling  voice.  The  ride  of  the  night  before  had 
come  back  to  her  so  vividly  as  to  arouse  her  fears  again. 

"How  can  that  be,  with  the  troops  to  back  'em? 
Why,  the  Injuus'll  fly  like  smoke  before  the  wind." 
Blossom  was  assured  by  the  bold  words ;  the  more,  per- 
haps, because  she  remembered  who  rode  at  the  head  of 
the  company  from  the  fort.  "You  just  make  yourself 
fine,  child,  and  don't  worry  about  your  father.  Put  on 
your  prettiest  ribbons ;  for  I'm  greatly  mistaken  if  we 
don't  have  a  handsome  young  man  to  supper  to-night." 

"But  they're  bringing  my  ribbons  in  with  them," 
laughed  Blossom.  "  I  shall  have  no  time  to  put  them 
on.  And,  O  mother!  I  have  no  clothes  but  these." 
And  the  girl  looked  ruefully  at  the  odd  dress  which  she 
had  worn  into  the  fort. 

"  Never  you  mind,  child.  You've  that  in  your  face 
that's  better  than  fine  clothes,"  the  mother  said  proudly. 
"  An'  Cap'n  Elyot  has  seen  'em  a'ready :  so  it  won't  sig- 


74  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

nify.  You  don't  happen  to  know  if  there's  any  one 
else  your  father'd  be  likely  to  bring  home  with  him  ?  " 

"  There  was  a  captain  —  I  have  forgotten  his  name. 
He  had  charge  of  the  train." 

"  Luttrell,  perhaps.     He's  expected  about  this  time." 

"Yes;  and  there  was  the  wagon-master,"  Blossom 
said  hesitatingly :  "  he  seemed  to  be  a  friend  to  father." 

"  Cogger  ?  They've  been  back  and  forth  together  a 
good  many  years  now,"  the  woman  said  indifferently. 
"  But  he  won't  come,  nor  Cap'n  Luttrell,  if  I  have  my 
way.  Thank  God,  we've  done  keeping  open  house, 
and  being  at  the  beck  and  call  of  anybody  who'd  a 
mind  to  come.  I  made  'em  a  grand  supper  before  your 
father  set  out,  and  told  'em  'twas  the  last  they  need 
look  for  here.  We'll  keep  to  ourselves,  now  that  you've 
come  home.  'Twouldn't  be  seemly  to  be  having  every- 
body hanging  about  the  house.  We'll  pick  and  choose 
among  'em.  And  Stubbs  may  open  the  store  to  the 
rest,  if  they  must  have  their  pipe  and  their  game,  and 
something  to  wash  down  their  losses;  for  they  do 
play  high  sometimes,  though  it's  not  for  me  to  say  so. 
Not  that  it's  worse  than  at  any  of  the  other  posts,"  she 
added  with  quick  caution.  "  And  what  can  you  expect 
of  men  who've  nothing  else  to  do  the  most  of  the  time  ? 
Whatever'!!  become  of  'em  when  they've  killed  off  all 
the  Injuns  the  Lord  knows  !  "  The  woman  had  worked 
herself  into  a  cheerful  humor  over  the  derelictions  of 
those  about  her.  "I'll  just  take  one  more  look  into  the 
kitchen,"  she  said,  "  and  then  go  and  dress  myself ;  for 
it's  wearing  toward  night."  The  clouds  seemed  to 
drop  lower  and  lower  until  they  shut  out  every  gleam 
of  light.  "  Yes,  it's  wearing  fast  toward  night ;  "  and 
she  sighed  as  she  hastened  away.  Her  cheerfulness  had 
been  only  on  the  surface,  after  all. 


HIS    INHERITANCE.  75 

She  was  detained  as  she  passed  through  the  store. 
Perhaps  the  odors  from  the  feast  in  preparation  — 
savory,  and  growing  stronger  —  had  stolen  through  the 
fort ;  for  more  than  one  idler  dropped  in  to  pay  a  trib- 
ute to  Stubbs's  popularity,  and  express  a  hope  that  all 
would  go  well  with  the  train.  They  might,  perhaps, 
look  in  later  in  the  evening,  when  he  had  really  arrived, 
which  must  be  soon  now:  it  would  be  too  dark  to 
follow  the  trail  in  an  hour.  But  Mrs.  Stubbs  was  deaf 
to  all  such  suggestions.  She  had  not  prepared  her  ban- 
quet, roasting  and  broiling  over  the  fire,  to  serve  those 
who  had  staid  at  home.  It  would  be  time  enough  to 
gather  whoever  chose  to  come  when  her  expected  guests 
failed  her.  So  she  made  but  brief  answer  to  all  the 
congratulations  over  her  daughter's  return.  Yes,  she 
was  quite  recovered,  since  they  were  so  polite  as  to 
ask.  But,  though  more  than  one  of  the  young  officers 
had  brushed  up  his  uniform,  it  was  all  in  vain.  No 
invitation  to  walk  into  the  parlor  they  all  knew  so  well 
followed  this  cool  reply.  They  began  to  realize  at  last 
that  the  door  of  that  mild  paradise  was,  indeed,  closed 
upon  them. 

Then  Mrs.  Stubbs  hastened  away  to  dress.  She  laid 
by  the  common  dark  print  worn  ordinarily,  and  brought 
out  a  high-colored  silk  of  old-fashioned  make,  which 
liad  been  folded  away  for  years.  Some  young  ambi- 
tion, outgrown  later,  some  womanly  desire  to  be  dressed 
like  the  best  of  those  about  her,  had  given  it  a  place 
among  her  stores.  It  was  creased  in  odd  squares  from 
lying  folded  away,  and  rattled  like  paper  when  she 
shook  it  out ;  but  she  arrayed  herself  in  it  with  trem- 
bling hands.  A  thoughtless  word,  never  intended  to 
give  pain,  which  Blossom  had  dropped  carelessly  about 


76  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

aunt  Julia's  tasteful  dress,  had  brought  this  from  its 
hiding-place.  The  girl  should  see  that  her  mother,  too, 
could  be  fine  if  she  chose.  The  bright  colors  height- 
ened her  dark  beauty.  She  stood  before  the  glass,  and 
smoothed  her  sleek  hair,  and  pinned  a  handkerchief 
across  her  bosom,  a  deeper  red  than  usual  flushing  her 
brown  cheeks  at  this  late  consciousness  of  her  good 
looks.  It  was  years  since  such  a  thought  had  crossed 
her  mind.  She  was  shy  of  showing  herself  to  Blossom 
when  all  was  done.  What  if  the  girl  should  laugh  at 
her  for  her  pains?  She  hesitated  at  the  door  of  the 
parlor.  There  was  a  flash  of  warm  color  in  the  room 
as  the  fire  flamed  up.  Odd,  incongruous  pieces  of 
furniture  were  ranged  stiffly  against  the  walls.  The 
pipes,  and  the  well-stained,  rickety  card-tables,  which  had 
been  the  chief  ornaments  of  the  apartment,  were  gone. 
The  sanded  floor  was  covered  now  with  a  gay  carpet. 
The  roses  upon  it  bloomed  into  sudden  summer  as  the 
firelight  touched  them.  It  had  all  been  made  gay  and 
ugly  in  anticipation  of  Blossom's  coming.  Comfort 
had  been  scared  away ;  and  stiff,  conventional  propriety 
sat  bolt  upright  in  the  heavy  arm-chairs,  or  propped 
itself  primly  upon  the  high-backed  sofa.  The  girl  for 
whom  all  this  sacrifice  had  been  made,  if  sacrifice  it 
was,  had  curled  herself  upon  the  hearth-rug  within 
the  circle  of  flickering  light,  her  loose,  pretty  hair  mak- 
ing a  kind  of  dusky  nimbus  about  her  head.  The  quiet 
of  the  room,  broken  only  by  the  shrieking  wind  out- 
side, oppressed  her.  The  forebodings  which  waiting 
and  listening  bring  to  the  stoutest  heart  began  to 
weigh  upon  her.  There  came  a  cheerful  rustle  at  the 
door,  as  Mrs.  Stubbs  in  her  paper  gown  stepped  into 
the  room.  The  yellow,  dancing  light  struck  the  bright 


HIS   INHEKITA^CE.  77 

colors,  and  stretched  up  to  the  handsome,  crimsoning 
face  under  the  smooth  dark  hair.  Blossom  started  as 
though  she  had  seen  a  vision. 

"  How  beautiful  you  are ! "  she  exclaimed,  her  eyes 
opening  wide,  her  hands  unclasping. 

"  As  fine  as  your  friends  t'  the  States  ?  "  And  Mrs. 
Stubbs  laughed  a  shy,  awkward  laugh  as  she  busied 
herself  over  the  fire. 

"  Oh,  much  finer !  "  Blossom  said  gravely.  "  It  was 
only  because  she  was  so  good  to  me,  and  dear,  that 
aunt  Julia  was  beautiful  to  look  at." 

She  brought  out  from  its  corner  one  of  the  heavy  old 
arm-chairs.  It  squeaked  and  groaned  as  she  set  it  be- 
fore the  blaze.  It  burst  out  into  hideous,  sprawling 
flowers  as  the  light  touched  it,  —  blue  and  yellow  and 
purple,  which  the  paper  gown  crushed  and  covered 
ruthlessly  as  Mrs.  Stubbs  took  her  place  in  it.  There 
were  companionship  and  cheer  in  the  fire,  though  they 
sat  voiceless  before  it.  The  wind  swept  around  the 
house,  and  wailed  in  the  chimney  as  they  waited  in 
silence.  All  at  once  there  was  a  tramp  of  feet  outside. 
Blossom  caught  her  mother's  arm,  and  listened,  —  her 
heart  still,  her  lips  apart,  while  the  red  glow  died  on 
the  woman's  face.  A  moment,  and  it  passed  by.  It 
was  only  the  relieving  guard.  Suddenly,  in  a  lull  of 
the  wind,  an  icy  tap  struck  the  window-pane.  Mrs. 
Stubbs  started  from  her  seat,  and  hurried  to  the  window. 
Not  a  dozen  rods  away  lay  the  broad,  frozen  river,  and 
beyond,  the  endless  stretch  of  sandy  plain.  But  her 
eyes,  blinded  by  the  fire,  saw  only  the  thick  darkness 
shutting  them  in. 

"  I  must  go  out,"  she  said  half  wildly.  "  I'll  be  back 
soon."  For  her  own  fears  were  thrown  upon  Bios- 


78  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

som's  face.  "  Don't  be  frightened.  It's  nothing  at  all. 
Only  I've  an  errand  down  to  the  major's.  I  forgot  it 
before." 

"  But  can't  Tolee  go  ?     The  storm  has  begun." 
"  No,  no !  I'll  go  myself,"  the  woman  said,  putting 
Blossom  by,  and  beginning  to  wrap  a  shawl  about  her 
head. 

"  Take  me  with  you,  then."  It  was  dreadful  to  be 
left  "alone.  What  was  it  her  mother  feared?  Could 
something  have  befallen  the  train?  But  her  father 
had  said  that  they  might  not  get  in  till  hours  later  than 
this,  —  till  morning  even.  "  Do  let  me  go."  But  her 
mother  would  not  listen.  "I'll  be  back  soon,"  she  said; 
"  keep  the  fire  bright  against  they  come ;  and,  if  you 
mind  staying  alone,  you  can  go  to  the  kitchen."  Then 
she  closed  the  door  after  her,  and  went  out  into  the 
night.  Yes,  the  snow  was  falling.  It  was  that  which 
had  struck  against  the  window.  The  wind  still  raged. 
It  beat  on  her  head,  and  pulled  at  her  shawl,  and  threw 
a  mocking  laugh  after  her  as  she  struggled  on.  Already 
she  had  forgotten  Blossom.  She  and  Stubbs  were  alone 
again,  in  her  excited  imagination,  as  they  had  been  be- 
fore Blossom  came  to  them.  Ah,  many  a  dark  night, 
with  the  wind  and  the  wolves  howling  about  her,  had 
she  waited  for  him  !  The  snow  must  have  been  falling 
softly  for  some  time.  It  covered  her  feet  as  she  pushed 
through  the  light  drifts.  She  had  known  a  storm  like 
this  to  sweep  down,  and  bury  horses  and  men  from 
sight.  The  river  would  be  hidden  in  an  hour.  The 
trail  would  be  lost.  A  lantern  went  hurrying  by  in 
the  darkness.  There  was  the  tread  of  feet,  the  trample 
of  hoofs,  muffled  by  the  snow.  Others  watched  as  well 
as  she.  She  hastened  on,  —  where,  or  to  what  end,  she 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  79 

hardly  knew  herself:  the  snow  and  sleet  struck  her 
face  like  a  stinging  hand.  There  were  lights  in  the 
windows  she  passed.  From  one  came  a  ringing  laugh. 
Let  them  laugh !  Housed  safe  and  warm,  they  had  no 
thought  of  those  who  might  be  lying  stiff  and  stark 
under  the  snow,  or  pressing  on  to  their  death.  There 
was  a  faint,  answering  wail  from  a  distance,  as  the  wind 
shrieked,  and  was  still  for  a  moment.  Was  it  the  wind, 
or  the  call  of  belated  men  borne  in  upon  her  bewildered 
ears  ?  Again  it  came.  It  was  caught  up  and  echoed 
with  a  great  shout  below  her.  The  shawl  blew  back 
from  her  head,  as,  her  arms  thrown  free,  she  struggled 
toward  the  gate.  There  were  voices  and  cries,  and  lan- 
terns swinging  high  in  air.  A  dozen  mounted  figures 
dashed  away  with  a  cheer.  Thank  God !  The  wagons 
were  coming  in  at  last  I 

Blossom  went  back  to  the  fire,  where  her  mother  had 
left  her.  It  was  better  to  be  alone  than  with  stupid 
Tolee  in  the  kitchen.  She  sat  down  to  wait  as  patient- 
ly as  she  could.  She  had  no  presentiment  of  harm  that 
could  have  befallen  her  father  when  she  had  put  away 
the  nervous  terrors  that  fluttered  about  her,  and  gave 
herself  really  to  consider  the  subject.  Had  he  not 
assured  her  that  there  was  nothing  to  fear?  She  re- 
membered now  that  she  was  hungry.  It  might  be  late 
before  their  grand  supper  was  served,  if,  indeed,  it  was 
not  spoiled  in  waiting ;  for  already  a  faint,  alarming 
scent  of  burning  stole  in  from  the  kitchen.  She  begged 
a  cake  of  Tolee,  who,  stupid  or  ungracious,  would  have 
put  her  off ;  then  she  came  back  to  her  post  to  eat  it, 
and  listen  and  wait.  The  dancing  firelight  made  her 
yawn.  In  spite  of  herself  she  grew  drowsy,  and  dozed. 
It  might  have  been  a  few  moments,  it  might  have  been 


80  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

hours,  when  the  wind  blew  down  the  chimney  with  a 
screech,  flapping  a  sudden  gust  in  her  face,  putting  out 
the  candle  she  had  lighted,  and  sending  the  ashes 
scurrying  over  the  hearth.  She  sprang  up,  frightened 
and  wide  awake.  Her  mother  had  not  returned.  She 
was  still  alone.  Was  she  dreaming  yet?  Or  were 
strange,  confused  sounds  tossed  back  and  forth  outside, 
—  a  new  awakening  at  the  post,  like  that  upon  which 
she  had  closed  her  eyes  early  in  the  morning  ?  She  lit 
the  candle ;  but  before  her  eager  hands  could  set  it  in 
its  place,  or  the  shadow  had  been  driven  to  the  corners 
of  the  room,  these  sounds  drew  near.  She  flew  to  throw 
the  door  wide  open  at  the  tread  of  feet  outside.  He 
must  have  come !  Had  she  not  said  that  she  would  be 
the  first  to  greet  him  ?  All  the  confused,  far-off  voices 
flew  into  the  room  as  the  wet  wind  struck  her  face. 
The  long  red  rays  from  a  lantern  swung  zigzag  on  the 
snow.  Voices  were  calling,  shouts  replying;  a  rider 
galloped  by ;  lights  were  dancing  in  the  distance.  But 
what  was  this  the  men  were  bearing  past  her  into  the 
house,  —  this  dragging,  heavy  burden  wrapped  from 
sight  ?  And  why  did  her  mother  follow,  weeping,  and 
wringing  her  hands  ? 

The  blanket  dropped  from  the  dead  face ,  and  Blos- 
som fell  like  a  snowflake  where  she  had  stood  aside  to 
let  them  pass.  For  it  was  Stubbs  —  dead,  shot  through 
the  heart. 

And  this  was  Blossom's  coming  home. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  81 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  HOUSE  WITH  DEATH  IN  IT. 

THE  train  had  been  attacked  at  daybreak ;  but  the 
little  company  defended  itself  bravely  until  re- 
enforcements  from  the  fort  surprised  and  scattered  the 
enemy.  Only  two  men  were  killed,  of  whom  the  post- 
sutler  was  the  first  to  fall.  Five  or  six  more  were 
wounded,  but  not  dangerously ;  and  the  wagons,  for 
which  all  this  jeopardy  and  loss  of  life  had  been  incurred, 
were  safely  convoyed  to  the  fort  at  last.  It  was  the 
bustle  and  din  of  the  camp  forming  just  outside  the 
stockade,  which  had  rushed  in  upon  Blossom  when  she 
opened  the  door  to  meet  her  father. 

No  one  noticed  the  girl.  The  men  returned,  and 
passed  out  by  the  way  they  had  come,  leaving  the  wife 
alone  with  her  dead.  But  hardly  had  the  door  closed 
after  them,  when  it  was  cautiously  opened  once  more, 
and  Cogger,  who  had  been  one  of  the  bearers  of  poor 
Stubbs's  body,  appeared  again,  thrusting  his  head  in 
warily,  and  finally  stepping  carefully  into  the  room. 

"  Wharever's  the  little  gal  ?  "  he  muttered  to  himself. 
Some  late  remembrance  of  Blossom  standing  in  the 
open  door,  with  her  happy,  welcoming  face,  had  crossed 
his  mind,  and  made  him  return.  What  had  become  of 


82  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

the  child  ?  Who  would  try  to  comfort  her  ?  And  then 
the  man,  peering  about  in  the  dim  light,  discovered  a 
little  dark  heap  lying  behind  the  door.  "  Poor  creeter !  " 
And  he  raised  her  in  his  arms,  holding  her  fearfully  and 
at  arm's-length.  "  I  declar'  t'  goodness,  I  don'  know 
what  t'  do  for  ye.  Whar's  yer  mother?  'Pears  t'  me 
she'd  better  be  tendin'  t'  the  livin'  than  groanin'  over 
the  dead.  Cryin'  won't  bring  him  t'  life."  And,  still 
bearing  Blossom  in  his  arms,  he  crossed  the  room  to  the 
door,  from  behind  which  came  at  intervals  the  sound  of 
low  groans  and  the  restless  tread  of  feet.  "  She  ain't 
in  no  state  t'  tend  t'  ye,"  he  said,  after  listening  a 
moment,  addressing  unconscious  Blossom.  "  I  reckon 
I'll  hev  t'  try  my  hand." 

He  laid  the  girl  down  upon  the  floor,  with  her  feet  to 
the  fire,  and,  going  out,  returned  with  a  handful  of  snow, 
with  which  he  sprinkled  her  face,  and  bathed  her  temples. 
Then  he  set  himself  to  rubbing  her  hands  with  a  corner 
of  his  rough  coat,  carefully  choosing  the  cleanest ;  and 
at  last,  taking  a  flask  from  his  pocket,  wet  her  lips  with 
its  contents  from  time  to  time.  His  awkward  yet  gentle 
efforts  were  not  in  vain.  The  dark  eyelashes  laid  upon 
the  white  cheeks  trembled  visibly ;  the  breath  of  return- 
ing life  warmed  the  death-like  face.  "  She's  comin' 
'round,"  muttered  the  delighted  wagon-master.  He 
took  off  his  drenched,  shabby  hat,  and  threw  it  upon  the 
floor,  and  with  both  hands  proceeded  to  smooth  his 
rough  hair  down  upon  either  side  of  his  face.  "  I  ain't 
much  t'  look  at,  an'  I  might  skeer  her  ef  she  opened 
her  eyes  sudden,"  he  apologized  to  himself  for  this  un- 
usual exercise  of  the  toilet.  Acting  upon  this  thought, 
too,  he  tried  to  wrench  his  countenance  into  something 
like  a  smile,  with  which  to  greet  her  when  she  should 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  83 

return  to  life.  Fortunately  the  fire  demanded  his  atten- 
tion ;  and  it  was  at  this  moment  that  Blossom,  coming 
to  herself,  and  unclosing  her  eyes,  sat  up  to  find  a 
strange  figure  thrusting  the  poker  sharply  among  the 
coals,  and  laying  a  forestick  upon  the  andirons.  She 
recognized  his  profile  against  the  light,  and  her  thoughts 
flew  to  the  last  time  she  had  seen  him ;  then  they  trav- 
elled home  to  the  present,  and  she  burst  into  tears. 

"  Now  don't  'ee,"  said  the  man,  at  his  wits'-end  to 
know  how  to  console  her.  u  'Tain't  no  use,  ye  know  : 
he's  dead." 

"  I  know  it,"  sobbed  Blossom.     "  O  father,  father  !  " 

"  He  set  a  store  by  his  little  gal,"  Cogger  ventured, 
when  she  had  wept  in  silence  a  while.  "  You  should  V 
heerd  him  the  night  ye  rode  off  with  the  cap'n  !  " 

"  Did  he  speak  of  me  ?  Oh !  what  did  he  say  ?  " 
Blossom  forgot  her  crying  for  a  moment.  To  hear  his 
words  was  like  bringing  her  father  to  life  again.  "  Was 
he  glad  that  I  had  gone  ?  " 

"  Uncommon,"  Cogger  replied  sententiously. 

"  Tell  me  all  he  said :  don't  leave  any  thing  out." 

"  Wall,  ef  I  ken.  But  ye  see,  I  didn't  lay  it  by,  as 
'twere,  not  thinkin'  of  sech  an  occasion.  'Twas  arter 
ye'd  gone,  ye  know,  an'  the  boys  were  mostly  sleepin', 
seein'  's  we'd  got  t'  catch  up  in  an  hour  or  two.  But 
thar  wa'n't  no  sleep  fur  him,  he  sed.  Them  was  his 
own  words,  —  *  Thar  ain't  no  sleep  -fur  me.' ' 

"  Did  he  say  so  ?  Poor  father  !  Was  he  afraid  some 
harm  would  come  to  me  ?  " 

"  Jest  that.  *  I  ain't  slept  day  nor  night,'  sez  he,  '  for 
thinkin'  o'  the  little  gal.  Ef  I  kin  only  git  her  safe  to 
her  mother,  who's  an  uncommon  woman ! '  An'  so  she 
is :  she  reminds  me  of  a  gal  I  knew  once  down  Wash- 


84  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

ita  way,  tho'  that  ain't  neither  here  nor  thar ;  "  and 
Cogger  fell  into  a  reverie. 

"  And  was  that  all  ?     Did  he  say  nothing  more  ?  " 

"  'Pears  t'  me  thar  was  somethin'  about  what  a  com- 
fort ye'd  been  t'  him,  and  somethin'  about  how  ye'd 
hung  on  to  his  heart,  and  how  he'd  wanted  most  power- 
ful t'  see  ye.  They  was  good  words,  I  know,  fur  a  man 
t'  have  in  his  mouth  t'ward  the  last." 

The  fire  blazed  high,  and  set  all  the  room  aglow  again ; 
it  touched  Blossom's  pale  cheek  laid  against  the  purple 
and  yellow  arm-chair.  Outside  the  storm  still  raged ; 
but  something  like  comfort  stilled  the  girl's  heart.  He 
thought  of  her,  —  he  remembered  her  to  the  last. 

"  But  oh !  there  is  something  else  I  want  to  ask  you," 
she  said,  trying  to  keep  back  her  sobs.  "  Did  you  know, 
were  you  beside  him  when  "  —  she  shuddered,  and  hid 
her  face. 

"  No  :  I  can't  say's  I  wos,  an'  be  truthful.  Ye  see,  I 
ain't  no  sperit  whatever  when  there's  Injuns  'round. 
I  can't  do  nothin'  but  tear  arter  'em,  an'  cut  an'  slash 
among  'em." 

Blossom  raised  her  head,  and  regarded  him  with  wet, 
astonished  eyes.  "  But  I  should  think,  if  you  are  so 
afraid,  you'd  run  away  from  them." 

"  One  ud  think  so,  sartain,"  Cogger  replied  thought- 
fully ;  "  but  I  don't.  It's  fear,  I  s'pose ;  an'  that's  all," 
he  said,  taking  up  his  shabby  hat,  and  moving  toward 
the  door.  "  Don't  speak  about  it,"  when  the  girl  would 
have  thanked  him.  "  Your  father  'n'  me  was  pardners 
for  years.  I'd  do  ye  a  sarvice  with  a  cheerful  sperit  any 
time,  if  so  be  as  ye  needed  one.  Not  thet  I'm  t'  be  in 
these  parts  long ;  but  anybody  along  the  trail  knows 
Dan  Cogger,  an',  if  ye  need  a  friend,  ye  won't  look  far 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  85 

for  one."  Then,  with  a  like  message  for  her  mother, 
he  took  his  leave. 

While  this  interview  was  taking  place  down  at  the 
sutler's  quarters,  a  very  different  scene  was  presented  at 
Major  Bryce's,  where  Captain  Elyot  had  dropped  in  for 
a  word  with  Mrs.  Bryce.  Several  ladies  had  assembled, 
in  spite  of  the  storm,  to  discuss  the  attack  upon  the 
wagon-train,  and  pick  up  any  item  of  news  it  might 
have  brought  in.  The  major's  daughter  had  been  serv- 
ing tea ;  and  the  little  flurry  of  fright  and  excitement 
which  had  pervaded  the  small  community  had  only  stimu- 
lated every  one  to  unusual  spirits :  so  that  it  was  a 
very  cheerful  and  almost  gay  company  in  the  midst  of 
which  Captain  Elyot  found  himself. 

"  O  Captain  Elyot ! "  they  exclaimed,  surrounding  him. 
"  How  glad  we  are  to  see  you  safely  back  again  !  And 
now  we  shall  hear  the  truth  of  it.  They  say  you  were 
quite  a  hero." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  the  young  man  replied  gravely. 
"  But  poor  Stubbs  was  the  only  hero,  and  he  paid  dear 
enough  for  his  honors.  —  How  do  you  do,  Miss  Claudia?" 
as  the  major's  daughter  set  down  the  cup  of  tea  in  her 
hand,  and  turned  to  meet  him. 

His  tone  was  warm  enough  for  friendliness  as  Claudia 
gave  him  her  hand ;  but  there  was  in  his  manner  neither 
the  eagerness  nor  the  confusion  with  which  a  lover  is 
supposed  to  meet  his  mistress  after  a  long  absence. 
Miss  Laud  was  watching  him  with  her  sharp  eyes. 

"  He  is  very  handsome,  but  not  a  bit  in  love,"  she  said 
to  herself. 

As  for  Claudia,  she  greeted  him  with  an  embarrassment 
she  could  not  control,  blushing  to  her  hair ;  for  by  this 
time  she  had  assumed  the  puffs  and  curls  and  braids, 


86  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

and  made  herself  fine,  with  the  hope  that  chance  or 
inclination,  or  some  good  fate,  would  bring  the  young 
man  here. 

"  You  must  be  very  tired.  Will  you  let  me  give  you 
some  tea  ?  " 

She  had  marked  his  great  cavalry  boots,  and  the  dis- 
orderly dress,  which  he  had  had  no  time  to  arrange  ;  but 
did  not  this  speak  of  his  eagerness  to  come  to  her,  as 
well  as  of  dangers  past,  and  glory  indeed?  for  he  had 
fought  with  the  bravest,  she  knew.  She  was  a  soldier's 
daughter ;  and  her  heart  beat  with  pride  over  this  hand- 
some, bold  young  man  who  was  a  hero  in  all  eyes 
to-night.  He  might  deny  it ;  but  he  was  a  hero,  never- 
theless. She  pulled  up  an  arm-chair,  for  every  one  had 
risen  at  his  entrance. 

"  Sit  down  and  make  yourself  comfortable  while  I 
call  Jinny  to  bring  a  fresh  pot:  it  will  take  but  a 
moment.  I  wish  you  had  come  an  hour  earlier :  you 
would  have  been  better  served." 

But  Captain  Elyot  declined  the  chair  turned  so  invit- 
ingly to  the  fire. 

"  I  have  had  a  cup  of  tea  already,"  he  said,  "  and 
thank  you  all  the  same.  And  I  really  cannot  stay.  I 
only  called  to  pay  my  respects  at  headquarters,"  he 
added,  with  a  gallant  bow  to  the  major's  daughter,  — 
too  gallant,  by  far,  Miss  Laud  thought,  —  "  and  to  say 
a  word  to  your  mother." 

Mrs.  Bryce  came  bustling  up  at  the  moment  to  press 
Claudia's  offer  of  hospitality.  She  was  a  stout,  fussy 
woman,  with  a  red  face,  all  aglow  now  with  good  will. 

"  You  are  quite  too  good,"  he  said  gratefully,  and  a 
little  ashamed  of  the  honors  thrust  so  openly  upon  him. 
"  I  really  cannot  stay  :  I  thought  perhaps  you  would  go 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  87 

down  to  the  sutler's.  Mrs.  Stubbs  must  be  in  great 
trouble.  I'm  on  my  way  there  now." 

And  it  was  for  this  he  had  come  !  Claudia's  heart 
turned  to  a  stone. 

"  To  be  sure  I  will !  I  was  telling  the  major  a  few 
moments  ago  that  some  one  ought  to  go  down  there. 
Just  wait  till  I  can  put  on  my  cloak.  Or  don't  let  me 
keep  you :  it  is  really  dreadful.  Jinny  will  go  with  me ; 
and  I'll  stop  long  enough  to  put  up  a  few  things  that 
may  be  needed." 

"  And  if  you  could  do  any  thing  for  the  daughter," 
said  Captain  Elyot,  turning  to  Claudia.  "  The  poor  girl 
must  be  nearly  distracted.  If  you  could  bring  her 
here  ?  "  he  suggested  with  well-meant  stupidity. 

He  made  the  proposition  boldly.  His  reception  had 
been  so  kind,  that  he  was  afraid  to  ask  nothing,  espe- 
cially as  he  remembered  that  he  and  Claudia  had  been 
the  best  of  friends  before  he  went  East.  Miss  Laud, 
standing  behind  Miss  Bryce,  pulled  at  her  gown.  Now 
was  the  time  to  show  herself  unsuspicious,  and  to  win 
his  gratitude.  Claudia  could  not  be  so  blind,  so  foolishly 
perverse,  as  to  refuse ! 

"I  —  don't  —  know,"  Claudia  stammered,  suddenly 
cold,  and  unmindful  of  this  pantomime  advice.  "  I  am 
afraid  we  are  full.  But  mamma  will  do  what  is  neces- 
sary, I  don't  doubt." 

Then  she  moved  away  and  left  him,  somewhat  be- 
wildered, it  must  be  owned,  and  not  at  all  sure  that  she 
had  accepted  his  suggestion.  But  Miss  Laud  followed 
him  to  the  door. 

"  Claudia  will  go  down  in  the  morning,  I  am  sure," 
she  said.  "  You  see  how  impossible  it  is  for  her  to  leave 
now.  If  /  could  do  any  thing  —  but  of  course  a  straii- 


88  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

ger  would  only  be  in  the  way.  It  is  very  sad  for  them ! 
Claudia  and  I  were  speaking  of  the  daughter  this  morn- 
ing. Such  a  sweet  face  as  she  has  !  " 

And  the  young  man  went  off,  with  his  heart  warm 
toward  Miss  Bryce  and  her  friend,  who  would  do  all 
they  could  to  heal  the  cruel  hurt  Blossom  had  received. 
How  stupid  he  had  been  to  misunderstand  Claudia  for 
a  moment,  and  to  leave  without  a  word !  He  forgot 
that  she  had  turned  away  from  him. 

The  windows  at  the  sutler's  were  dark,  and  beaten 
full  of  snow,  when  he  reached  the  house.  There  was 
no  response  to  his  tap  at  the  door ;  and  he  ventured  to 
enter  unannounced  the  room  where  he  had  spent  so 
many  evenings.  It  was  unlighted,  —  the  candle  had 
burned  out,  and  no  one  had  thought  to  replace  it,  —  and 
seemed  empty  of  human  presence  ;  for  in  the  dark- 
ness he  did  not  notice  the  girl,  who  had  cried  herself  to 
sleep  upon  the  floor  at  last. 

A  bright  line  of  light  under  the  door  at  the  foot 
of  the  room  drew  him  on.  It  must  be  there  they  had 
laid  Stubbs ;  and  there  he  should  find  the  widow  and 
Blossom. 

But  again  no  one  responded  to  his  knock  at  the  door ; 
and,  after  a  moment,  he  pushed  it  open,  and  stepped  into 
the  room.  There  was  something  awful  in  the  stillness 
of  the  bare  little  bedroom  in  which  Stubbs  reposed.  It 
was  not  death  alone  that  struck  a  chill  to  his  heart. 
He  had  become,  in  a  measure,  accustomed  to  that,  —  to 
death  in  its  most  dreadful  forms,  —  in  the  vestments  and 
attitudes  of  life,  with  open,  staring  eyes,  out  under  the 
wide  sky.  It  was  the  death-in-life  of  the  woman's  face 
beside  the  bed  that  filled  him  with  awe,  and  froze  the 
words  upon  Ms  lips.  What  comfort  could  he  bring  to  this 


HIS    INHERITANCE.  89 

woman,  with  her  dead  lying  stretched  out  before  her  ? 
He  stood  a  moment,  with  uncovered  head,  looking  down 
upon  the  quiet  face  from  which  all  earthly  passion  had 
faded.  It  seemed  even  to  wear  an  expression  of  con- 
tent, as  though  this  long  sleep  were  sweet  and  dream- 
less, and  full  of  rest.  So  should  he  be  some  day ;  but 
he  could  not  bring  it  home  to  his  consciousness  now. 
With  the  blood  quick  and  warm  in  his  veins,  his 
thoughts  flew  rather  to  the  living.  Where  was 
Stubbs's  daughter  ?  Where  was  Blossom  ?  He  had 
promised  to  stand  by  her  at  the  worst,  never  dreaming 
that  the  worst  would  be  like  this.  But  he  would  not 
forget  his  vow.  Here,  by  the  dead  body  of  her  father 
who  had  committed  her  to  his  keeping,  he  renewed  it. 
She  should  find  a  friend  in  him.  Then  he  approached 
the  woman  who  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  her  hands 
locked,  her  eyes  staring  straight  before  her.  He  spoke 
to  her ;  but  she  did  not  move.  He  touched  her  arm  ; 
but  she  shook  him  off.  "  Where  is  the  child  ?  Where  is 
Miss  Blossom  ?  "  he  asked,  stooping  down,  and  speaking 
in  her  ear.  That  would  recall  her.  But  she  only 
turned  her  vacant,  bloodshot  eyes  upon  him  without  a 
word.  She  had  forgotten  the  child. 

But  Blossom  could  not  be  far  away.  It  was  cruel  to 
leave  her  alone.  How  little  Claudia  and  her  friend  had 
realized  her  forlorn  condition  !  If  they  had  known  it, 
they  would  have  come  to  her  at  once,  he  deluded  him- 
self with  thinking.  He  could  do  nothing  for  the  sutler's 
wife ;  but  it  could  not  be  long  now  before  Mrs.  Bryce 
came  to  her.  One  of  her  own  sex  would  know,  as  he 
did  not,  how  to  touch  the  springs  of  her  heart,  and 
make  an  outlet  for  her  sorrow. 

He  closed  the  door  after  him  with  that  hush  which 


90  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

the  presence  of  the  dead  imposes  on  us  all,  and  returned 
to  the  parlor.  The  room  had  been  familiar  enough  to 
him  once ;  but  the  very  outline  of  it  seemed  changed 
now,  as  his  eyes  became  somewhat  accustomed  to  the 
darkness.  A  little  heap  of  darker  shadows  before  the 
dying  embers  of  the  fire  caught  his  eye.  Could  that  be 
Blossom  ?  He  crossed  the  floor,  uttering  her  name  in  a 
subdued  voice. 

There  was  a  movement  among  the  shadows  on  the 
hearth-rug,  then  a  figure,  slight,  and  with  unbound  hair, 
rose  between  him  and  the  faint  glow  of  the  firelight. 
"  Who  is  it  ?  "  asked  Blossom  in  a  heart-broken  tone, 
which  touched  the  young  man  more  than  the  sight  of 
the  dead  face  he  had  just  left. 

"  And  you  are  all  alone  ?  "  said  he,  without  waiting 
to  announce  himself.  "  Let  me  get  a  light.  There 
used  to  be  matches  here." 

He  had  pushed  the  heavy  chair  away,  and  was  search- 
ing upon  the  mantel  while  he  spoke.  It  had  been 
laden,  when  he  knew  it  last,  with  pipes  and  matches, 
and  boxes  of  tobacco.  But  all  was  indeed  changed 
here. 

"  Wait :  I  will  bring  one,"  Blossom  said,  disappear- 
ing for  a  moment,  to  return  with  a  little  circle  of  flaring 
light  about  her  head  from  the  lamp  in  her  hand,  light- 
ing up  her  pale  face  and  heavy  eyes  as  she  set  it  down 
upon  the  table.  Then  she  waited,  with  her  hands 
crossed,  and  a  strange  calm  upon  her  childish  counte- 
nance, in  an  attitude  of  utter  self-forgetfulness,  for  what 
he  was  about  to  say. 

There  came  to  him,  like  an  echo,  a  recollection  of 
the  scene  he  had  just  left.  And  not  one  of  those  women 
had  thought  of  this  poor  child!  It  was  an  injustice  to 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  91 

the  ladies  of  the  post,  since  more  than  one  of  them  had 
spoken  pityingly  of  both  Blossom  and  her  mother, 
though  no  one  but  the  major's  wife  had  proposed  going 
to  them.  Mrs.  Stubbs  had  inspired  her  acquaintances 
with  an  awe  which  amounted  to  terror  among  the 
female  and  more  timid  portion.  They  looked  down 
upon  her,  to  be  sure,  as  belonging  to  another  order  than 
themselves ;  but  they  sympathized  with  her  so  far  as  it 
was  possible.  And  yet  might  she  not  resent  a  sym- 
pathy which  had  had  no  forerunner  of  friendliness  ? 

"  And  you  are  entirely  alone  ?  This  ought  not  to 
be,"  said  Captain  Elyot,  with  a  glance  of  surprise  over 
the  fine,  dismal  apartment  which  had  put  on  such  a 
strange  face  to  him.  "  But  Mrs.  Bryce,  the  major's 
wife,  will  be  down  directly :  she'll  take  you  home 
with  her,  I  hope." 

"  Oh,  don't  send  me  away !  "  Blossom's  sobs  broke 
out  anew  at  this. 

"  Send  you  away  ?  It's  not  for  me  to  send  you  away, 
or  do  any  thing  else,  as  for  that  matter.  Only  nobody 
seems  to  think  of  you.  They're  coming  down  to  see 
what  can  be  done  for  your  mother ;  and  I  hoped  some 
of  them  would  take  you  home." 

"But  I  would  rather  stay  —  with  him,"  said  Blos- 
som brokenly,  and  hardly  above  her  breath. 

"  Then  you  shall,"  the  young  man  replied,  with  a  de- 
cision which  set  Blossom's  timid  heart  at  rest.  "  But  I 
have  something  for  you  here." 

He  approached  the  table  where  she  had  set  the  light 
down,  and  which  formed  a  barrier  between  them, 
behind  which  the  child  stood,  with  a  pitiful  attempt 
at  quiet  and  self-control.  Some  locks  of  her  soft 


92  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

brown  hair,  loosely  curling,  fell  over  her  face.  She 
pushed  them  back,  and  took  up  the  scrap  of 
crumpled  paper  he  laid  before  her,  an  occasional  sob- 
bing breath  breaking  the  silence  between  them  as  she 
tried  to  make  out  the  scrawling  lines  written  upon  it. 
It  was  the  leaf  from  the  memorandum-book  which 
Stubbs  had  pinned  upon  the  little  gray  gown  in  the 
wagon.  Some  curious  eyes  had  found  it  out,  and  it  had 
come  to  Captain  Elyot's  hand. 

"  I  kommit  my  soul  to  God,  and  all  I  die  possessed  of 
to  my  wife  and  the  child.  May  Crod  have  them  in  his 
keepin  !  "  It  read. 

It  was  Stubbs's  last  will  and  testament. 

Poor  Blossom's  tears  burst  out  afresh  at  this.  Ten- 
der as  his  heart  was  toward  her  in  her  trouble,  the 
young  man  was  sorely  at  a  loss  to  comfort  her ;  and  yet 
he  would  not  go  away  and  leave  her  alone.  Would 
none  of  the  women  ever  come !  "  You  see,  he  felt  that 
he  was  going  to  die,  and  had  you  in  his  mind  at  the 
very  last,"  he  ventured,  when  she  had  cried  a  few  mo- 
ments, with  hysterical  sobs  it  frightened  him  to  hear. 
And  then  he  went  on  to  speak  of  her  father's  death :  it 
was  instantaneous,  painless.  Gradually  the  sobs  be- 
came less  violent  as  she  listened.  Without  being  aware 
of  it,  he  had  said  the  very  words  Blossom  most  longed 
to  hear. 

There  had  been  a  horror  in  her  mind,  which  had 
fairly  overcome  her  grief,  in  regard  to  the  manner  of 
his  death.  She  knew  nothing  of  it ;  but  vague  recollec- 
tions of  stories  heard  and  read  in  years  past,  of  Indian 
tortures  and  massacres,  had  crowded  together,  and  as- 
sumed dreadful  shapes  in  her  fancy.  His  words  brought 
a  relief  that  almost  took  away  her  pain. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  93 

He  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  add  that  he  had 
risked  his  own  life  to  drag  the  lifeless  body  out  of 
the  reach  of  the  savages.  He  had  no  thought  of 
himself  at  the  moment.  It  was  enough  to  see  that  the 
child  was  stilled  and  comforted.  "  We  were  old  friends, 
your  father  and  I,"  he  said  at  last,  making  a  boast  of 
a  friendship  he  would  hardly  have  given  a  thought  to 
twenty-four  hours  before ;  and  yet  his  heart  was  really 
warm  at  the  remembrance  of  the  little  sutler's  many 
virtues.  "  I  hope  you  won't  forget  it,  or  that  your 
father  trusted  you  to  me.  I'll  be  a  kind  of  brother  to 
you,  if  you'll  let  me,"  he  added  with  sudden  shyness. 
And  Blossom  put  out  one  of  her  little  hands,  and  raised 
her  face,  all  wet  with  tears,  to  smile  a  feeble  smile  more 
sad  than  crying,  at  this  promise. 

Then  Mrs.  Bryce's  loud  rap  sounded  at  the  door; 
and  she  came  bustling  in,  full  of,  it  must  be  owned, 
rather  condescending  kindness.  She  would  have  low- 
ered her  voice,  and  chosen  her  words  more  carefully,  in 
another  house ;  for  there  are  different  qualities  of 
sympathy,  and  we  mete  them  out  according  to  the  case 
in  hand.  And  close  behind  Mrs.  Bryce  followed  the 
chaplain  and  his  wife.  Something  of  the  sorrowfulness 
of  grief  seemed  to  fly  away  from  the  house  as  the  door 
opened  for  all  these  officious,  well-meaning  people  to 
enter  in;  and  death  was  no  longer  awful  and  still, 
but  a  confusion  of  strange  running  to  and  fro,  of 
whisperings  and  beckonings,  and  mysterious  figures 
passing  in  and  out,  with  faces  which  strove  to  be  sad, 
but  were  only  strange  and  bewildering.  By  and  by 
the  echo  of  a  prayer  came  out  from  the  room  where  the 
dead  man  lay. 


94  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

Captain  Elyot  stole  away  from  it  all,  haunted  by 
Blossom's  pale,  frightened  face,  and  the  hoarse  sobs 
coming  from  the  bedside  of  the  dead  man,  like  a  dread- 
ful response  to  the  prayers  the  chaplain  was  reading 
out  of  his  book. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  95 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  NEW  LIFE. 

funeral  was  over,  and  Stubbs  was  laid  away  to 
-•-  his  long  sleep,  and  still  the  earth  rolled  on.  The 
snows  swept  in  upon  Fort  Atchison  as  the  winter  drew 
near ;  the  river,  shut  into  its  shallow  bed,  was  covered 
from  sight;  and  only  the  cold  sky  overhead  and  the 
broken  snow-white  land,  desolate  as  a  sun-scorched  des- 
ert, met  the  eyes  of  the  little  company  locked  in  at  the 
post. 

Long  before  this,  the  train,  of  which  the  sutler's  wag- 
ons had  formed  a  part,  had  reached  its  destination. 
Blossom,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  a  strange  sense  of 
loneliness  in  her  heart,  had  watched  them  until  the 
white  top  of  the  last  disappeared  in  the  distance  as  they 
moved  off  upon  the  southern  trail.  Before  setting  out, 
1  _;•<.' r  had  repeated  his  offer  of  friendly  aid  to  Mrs. 
Stubbs.  "I  ain't  o'  much  'count,  bein'  but  a  fearsome 
sort  o'  a  person  at  best,"  he  had  said  ;  "  but  I'd  be  glad 
t'  do  ye  a  sarvice,  seein's  Stubbs  an'  me  were  as  good 
as  pardners  for  years.  Any  thing  short  o'  fi'tin'  the 
Injuns,"  he  added,  as  though  afraid  of  having  promised 
too  much. 

But  Mrs.  Stubbs  received  this  bashful  proffer  of  ser- 


96  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

vice  with  an  indifference  almost  contemptuous.  It  was 
not  to  such  friends  as  this  she  should  look  now.  The 
first  shock  of  stunning  grief  had  passed  away ;  but  it 
had  hardened  her  heart.  Her  ambition  had  been 
checked  for  a  time  by  the  lethargy  which  held  her,  to 
be  turned  now  into  new  and  wider  channels,  and  to 
flow  the  swifter  for  the  accumulated  force  gathered  in 
the  mean  time. 

All  was  changed  at  the  sutler's  quarters ;  but  this 
change  had  been  planned  before  Stubbs's  untimely 
death.  There  were  no  more  merry  stories  or  hilarious 
songs  over  steaming  glasses;  neither  chink  of  gold, 
nor  rustle  of  cards,  nor,  indeed,  any  other  sound  of  rev- 
elry, floated  out  from  the  sutler's  parlor  now.  A  decent 
respect  for  Stubbs's  memory  might  have  modified  this 
gayety  for  a  while ;  but  it  was  understood  at  the  post 
that  there  was  to  be  no  return  to  these  festivities. 
Stubbs's  daughter  had  come  home  at  last ;  and  the  fam- 
ily was  to  retire  within  itself,  and  be  clothed  upon  with 
the  decent  reserve  enveloping  the  half  a  dozen  other 
families  of  the  garrison.  Although  honestly  lamented 
by  his  friends  and  patrons,  Stubbs  would  hardly  have 
been  mourned  as  he  was,  but  for  the  fact  that  his  death 
deprived  the  post  of  a  social  centre.  His  virtues  became, 
for  the  moment,  the  universal  topic  of  conversation,  at 
least  among  the  male  residents  at  the  fort.  His  obli- 
ging manners ;  a  friendly  familiarity  tempered  with  def- 
erence ;  his  stories,  in  which  he  never  played  the  hero ; 
above  all,  his  punch,  which  might  have  vied  with 
Samson  for  strength,  —  were  extolled  to  a  degree  that 
would  have  made  proud  the  heart  of  the  sutler,  could 
he  have  known  it.  Alas !  appreciation  and  honor  are 
plants  which  grow  mostly  in  graveyards.  But,  while 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  97 

every  thing  else  withered  and  died,  Stubbs's  memory 
was  kept  green  throughout  all  the  long,  cold  winter. 

In  one  respect  there  was  no  perceptible  change. 
Mrs.  Stubbs,  who  had  been  for  years  the  active  partner 
in  affairs  pertaining  to  the  store,  conducted  the  busi- 
ness still.  This  was  the  more  necessary,  since  months 
must  elapse  before  any  one  could  be  appointed  to  fill 
the  place  nominally  vacant.  It  was  well,  too,  for  the 
woman,  that  some  sharp  necessity  urged  her  on  at  this 
time,  when  despair,  and  a  sense  of  loss  she  could 
hardly  comprehend,  pulled  her  down  constantly.  But, 
as  the  days  went  on,  she  turned  more  and  more  from 
the  past.  The  present  was  full  for  her,  —  full  of  cares 
and  vexations  which  sharpened  the  temper,  never  of 
the  mildest,  and  irritated  the  nerves,  strained  almost 
to  breaking  by  the  shock  she  had  endured.  The  future 
alone  was  pleasant  to  contemplate.  All  the  wild 
schemes  that  had  been  only  fascinating  dreams  over 
Blossom's  rude  cradle  came  back  to  her  now.  What 
should  prevent  their  becoming  realities  ?  She  courted 
them ;  she  dwelt  among  them  in  her  occasional  moments 
of  leisure ;  they  crept  in  upon  her  work,  bewildering 
her  brain,  and  confusing  her  hands.  How  to  work 
them  out  into  practical  life  was  the  problem  that  puz- 
zled her.  But  this  she  would  learn,  or  it  would  come 
to  her  later.  There  was  nothing  to  which  she  might 
not  attain,  now  that  there  was  no  one  to  put  a  check 
upon  her  desires. 

But  it  was  not  for  herself  that  she  had  encouraged 
these  new-formed  schemes.  The  child  had  come  to 
mingle  in  all  her  thoughts.  She  was  the  object  and 
<iii(l  of  all  her  ambitious  hopes.  To  speak  gentle  words, 
or  to  caress  her,  to  sympathize  in  any  degree  with  her 


98  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

tastes,  to  enter  even  the  gates  of  her  innocent  fancies, 
she  could  not.  But  to  work  for  Blossom  with  her  hard 
hands,  to  scheme  subtly,  and  even  fight  for  her  if  need 
be,  — all  this  she  could  and  would  do. 

Sometimes  the  apathy  of  grief  or  added  years 
tempted  her  to  seek  ease  and  quiet  instead.  The  old, 
strong  life  that  had  tingled  in  her  veins  to  her  finger- 
ends,  making  her  restless,  active,  aggressive,  seemed  to 
have  ebbed  away,  leaving  her  stranded  high  and  dry, 
moved  only  by  an  occasional  tide.  The  muscles  of  her 
strong  arms  lost  their  solidity ;  the  fresh  color  died  in 
her  cheeks ;  the  keen  fire  died  in  her  eyes ;  and  white 
threads  began  to  mark  the  shining  black  hair.  A 
strange  indifference  to  every  thing  lay  in  wait  for  her 
continually,  against  which  she  battled  feebly.  She  had 
been  knocked  down,  battered,  bruised,  left  like  one 
dead;  but  her  strength  was  coming  back,  though  she 
was  still  blinded  and  dizzy.  In  a  little  time  she  could 
renew  the  struggle,  if  her  courage  would  but  hold  out. 
There  was  one  circumstance  which  stung  her  to  some- 
thing of  her  old  keenness ;  and  that  was  the  indifference 
with  which  Blossom's  appearance  had  been  received  at 
the  post  by  the  ladies  sojourning  there.  With  one 
exception,  no  one  of  them  had  called  upon  her,  or 
extended  to  her  the  slightest  civility.  Claudia  Bryce 
had  not  been  persuaded,  though  Miss  Laud  had  done 
her  best,  to  follow  her  mother  to  the  sutler's,  either 
on  the  night  he  was  brought  home  dead,  or  on  any  of 
the  succeeding  days.  Blossom  need  not  have  protested 
against  being  sent  away:  she  was  not  asked  to  ex- 
change the  gloom  of  her  own  home  for  the  more  cheer- 
ful atmosphere  at  the  major's.  Mrs.  Bryce  knew  noth- 
ing of  this  suggestion  ;  and  Claudia  had  not  repeated  it. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  99 

One  exception  there  was  to  the  general  indifference. 
Mrs.  Brown,  the  chaplain's  wife,  did  indeed  call  upon 
the  stranger.  Mrs.  Stubbs,  entering  hastily  from  the 
store  one  afternoon,  unwarned  of  this  visit,  found  her 
occupying  one  of  the  purple  and  yellow  arm-chairs. 
The  sutler's  widow  felt  that  it  was  but  a  professional 
call,  and  in  her  heart  resented  it,  sitting  upon  the  edge 
of  one  of  her  own  fine  chairs  in  stiff,  unbending  dig- 
nity, and  taking  no  part  in  the  conversation.  Blos- 
som, meanwhile,  by  no  means  self-conscious  enough  to 
attribute  the  visit  to  any  motive  but  kindness,  too  sim- 
ple-hearted to  give  it  a  thought,  indeed,  chattered 
unreservedly  of  her  Eastern  home,  her  friends,  and  her 
school-life  ;  for  to  that  pleasant  past  Mrs.  Brown  had 
considerately  directed  the  polite  interrogations  which 
supported  the  rather  frail  discourse  between  them. 
Shadows  and  sunlight  crossed  the  girl's  face  as  one 
memory  after  another  was  awakened,  and  the  long, 
slanting  sunbeams  from  the  little  windows  passed  by 
the  ugly  gay  chairs,  and  gaudy  flowering  carpet,  to 
touch  the  graceful  figure  in  the  simple  dark-blue  gown, 
and  to  crown,  for  the  moment,  with  almost  perfect 
beauty,  the  bright,  warm  face. 

Mrs.  Brown,  who  had  come  at  the  suggestion  of  her 
husband,  —  Mrs.  Stubbs  was  not  so  far  out  of  the  way, 
after  all,  —  was  quite  won  by  the  girl's  pretty,  childish 
face,  and  modest,  graceful  ways.  "  Who  would  have 
believed  it !  "  she  said  to  herself,  with  an  unconscious 
glance  toward  the  mother,  stiff,  ill  at  ease,  and  almost 
forbidding  in  aspect.  "  How  lonely  the  poor  little 
thing  must  be  !  "  And  she  urged  Blossom  to  come  and 
s<r  her  very  soon.  "Come  for  the  afternoon,"  she 
said.  "I  am  often  alone  while  Mr.  Brown  is  in  his 


100  HIS   INHEKITANCE. 

school,  and  find  the  time  hanging  heavy  on  my  hands. 
We  have  a  few  books,  if  you  are  fond  of  reading,  and 
some  of  the  late  magazines,  though  I  fear  they  would 
be  old  to  you.  But  you  will  soon,  like  the  rest  of  us, 
drop  six  months  behind  the  times,  and  be  quite  con- 
tented that  it  should  be  so  too ;  which  is  the  oddest 
part  of  it,"  she  added,  with  a  cheerful  laugh.  "  I  sup- 
pose we  lose  our  ambition ;  but  I  am  by  no  means  sure 
that  ambition  is  a  desirable  quality  to  possess,"  she 
said,  with  another  laugh.  "  But  you  are  to  come  and 
see  me,  mind,  and  very  soon." 

Blossom  was  charmed  with  their  visitor,  and  delighted 
with  her  offer  of  friendship.  She  looked  toward  her 
mother,  before  giving  the  shy  assent  upon  her  lips. 

"  You  can  go  if  you  want  to,"  Mrs.  Stubbs  said  un- 
graciously, making  Blossom's  cheeks  tingle  with  shame. 
Then  the  woman  did  remember  her  manners  sufficiently 
to  thank  the  chaplain's  wife.  But  the  thanks  lacked 
spontaneity;  and  Mrs.  Brown  went  away  chilled  and 
mildly  ruffled.  After  all,  it  was  impossible  to  make  any 
thing  of  these  people. 

But  Blossom  knew  nothing-  of  the  check  which  her 
good  will  had  received,  and  set  out,  after  what  she 
deemed  a  suitable  time  had  elapsed,  to  return  the  visit 
of  the  chaplain's  wife.  She  hung  a  little  reticule  upon 
her  arm,  in  which  was  hidden  away  some  bit  of  work, 
since  she  had  been  asked  to  pass  the  afternoon.  But, 
though  Mrs.  Brown  was  scrupulously  polite  and  inter- 
ested in  her  visitor,  something  was  gone  from  her 
graciousness.  It  seemed,  indeed,  to  be  held  under  lock 
and  key,  and  to  be  doled  out  on  demand.  There  were 
none  of  the  silly  but  delightful  little  outbursts  of 
speech,  which  had  so  charmed  Blossom  at  their  first 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  101 

interview.  The  truth  was,  that  Mrs.  Brown  had  not 
forgotten  how  stiffly  Mrs.  Stubbs  had  received  her. 
Looking  upon  Blossom  with  sharp,  critical  eyes  to-day, 
she  fancied  the  daughter  had  something  of  the  mother's 
frigidity.  Poor  Blossom  was  growing  more  and  more 
embarrassed  every  moment  at  this  reception,  so  unlike 
what  she  had  looked  forward  to.  She  could  hardly 
keep  back  the  tears ;  and,  oh !  how  could  she  hide  the 
reticule  upon  her  arm  ?  Mrs.  Brown  did  notice  it  at 
last,  but  only  when  the  girl  had  gained  courage,  by 
a  desperate  effort,  to  get  up  from  her  chair,  and  make  a 
move  to  go  home. 

"  I  would  ask  you  to  take  off  your  hat ;  but  I  —  I  am 
going  down  to  Mrs.  Bryce's  to  meet  some  friends," 
stammered  the  chaplain's  wife. 

"  I  could  not  stay ;  indeed  I  could  not,"  said  Blos- 
som, trying  to  hide  the  dreadful  reticule  in  the  folds  of 
her  gown,  and  ready  to  cry  with  disappointment,  but, 
above  all,  with  shame.  And  she  fairly  ran  away,  with- 
out another  word  of  adieu. 

An  uncomfortable  consciousness  that  she  had  not 
dealt  quite  fairly  with  the  girl  did  pursue  Mrs.  Brown 
as  she  tied  her  rigolette  about  her  head,  donned  her 
shawl,  and  prepared  herself  for  a  call  at  the  major's  in 
corroboration  of  her  excuse  to  Blossom.  She  was  going 
to  the  major's,  and  she  should,  without  doubt,  meet 
friends  there  :  so  she  flattered  herself  that  she  had  not 
told  an  untruth.  And,  after  all,  if  she  had  taken  up 
this  girl,  petted  her  and  made  of  her,  as  she  had  been 
tempted  to  do  at  first,  she  would  only  have  made  her 
discontented  in  the  sphere  to  which  she  was  born,  and 
prepared  her  for  unnumbered  slights  and  stings,  since 
it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  all  the  ladies  at  the  post 


102  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

would  have  been  equally  gracious  to  the  sutler's  daugh- 
ter. It  was  tolerable  philosophy,  and  it  eased  the  con- 
science of  the  good  woman  ;  but,  unfortunately,  it  could 
not  reach  Blossom,  who  hurried  home  to  pour  out  her 
tears  before  her  mother,  ashamed  of  a  disappointment 
so  childish,  and  wounded,  she  hardly  knew  how.  And 
the  mother  comforted  her,  roughly  to  be  sure ;  but  sym- 
pathy is  from  heart  to  heart,  and  the  words  that  carry 
it  are  nothing.  She  kept  down  the  bitter,  angry  words 
that  rose  to  her  lips ;  she  concealed  the  rage  that  made 
her  angry  and  revengeful  toward  the  woman  who  had 
slighted  her  child.  For  she  understood  it  all.  No  sud- 
denly remembered  engagement  had  taken  her  away: 
Blossom  had  been  unwelcome. 

"  Send  your  daughter  down  to  the  house,"  said  Mrs. 
Bryce  one  morning  not  long  after  this  unfortunate 
visit.  The  major's  wife  was  lingering  at  the  counter  in 
the  store,  over  a  web  of  muslin,  testing  its  quality 
between  thumb  and  forefinger.  "  It  must  be  dull  for 
her  here,"  she  went  on.  "  I'll  take  her  with  me  now, 
since  I'm  quite  alone  to-day.  Does  she  understand 
plain  sewing?"  And  Mrs.  Bryce  smoothed  the  web 
of  cloth  with  her  stout  white  hand,  which  shone  with 
handsome,  old-fashioned  rings,  while  waiting  for  the 
reply,  which  was  long  in  coming. 

"  My  daughter  is  busy  with  her  own  affairs,  and  thank 
you,  ma'am."  Angry  as  she  was,  the  sutler's  wife  could 
not  forget  the  respect  due  to  the  wife  of  the  command- 
ing officer.  "She  understands  fine  sewing  as  well  as 
plain,  thanks  to  the  ladies  as  taught  her  to  hold  her 
needle  when  she  was  only  a  little  thing.  But  there's 
no  need  of  her  using  it  for  other  folks,  nor  for  herself 
as  for  that  matter,  unless  she  chooses."  And  Mrs. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  103 

Stubbs  actually  turned  her  back  upon  the  major's 
wife. 

"  Hoity-toity  !  "  said  Mrs.  Bryce,  retreating  hastily, 
after  a  stare  of  astonishment  over  this  awful  procedure. 
"  To  hear  the  woman !  It's  time  the  major  took  it  in 
hand,  if  one  can't  buy  a  yard  of  muslin  without  being 
insulted." 

She  reached  home  with  her  wrath  full  grown,  and  her 
mild,  round  face  in  a  blaze. 

"  Such  airs !  "  she  exclaimed,  recounting  the  story  at 
dinner.  "  And  over  that  chit  of  a  girl !  You  should 
have  heard  her,  Major  Bryce,  assure  me  to  my  face  that 
her  daughter  need  not  so  much  as  take  a  needle  into 
her  hand,  unless  she  chose.  And  then  she  actually 
stalked  off  about  her  own  affairs,  without  so  much  as 
asking  if  I  had  been  served.  It's  quite  time  there  was 
a  change.  One  would  think  the  woman  was  conferring 
a  favor  every  time  she  gives  you  a  spool  of  thread." 

"  Ha,  ha,"  laughed  the  major  boisterously.  "  So  you 
attacked  Mrs.  Stubbs !  You're  braver  than  I  thought 
you,  my  dear.  Interfere  ?  Not  I !  You  women  may 
fight  it  out.  But  she'll  give  you  no  quarter,  I  can  tell 
you.  And  it's  the  daughter,  is  it  ?  Well,  she's  a  pretty 
little  thing,  pretty  enough  to  set  you  all  by  the  ears." 

"  Pretty  !  "  Claudia  repeated  disdainfully.  "  She's  a 
sly  minx,  peeping  out  from  behind  the  window,  with 
her  pink-and-white  face,  at  every  young  man  that  goes 
by!" 

"  Oh-ho !  "  shouted  the  major.  "  Sits  the  wind  in 
that  quarter  ?  You  girls  had  better  look  out  for  your 
laurels.  I  saw  Captain  Elyot  casting  his  eyes  toward 
that  same  window  not  half  an  hour  ago."  And,  having 
fired  his  heaviest  gun,  like  a  wise  man  he  took  himself 
out  of  danger  of  its  recoil. 


104  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

But  the  wrath  of  the  major's  wife  was  lukewarm  to 
that  aroused  in  Mrs.  Stubbs's  bosom.  Do  plain  sewing, 
indeed !  Ah,  but  the  time  should  come  (and  the  woman 
nailed  her  vow  with  an  oath)  when  Blossom  should 
take  her  place  with  the  best  of  them.  There  was 
money  enough:  with  this,  and  Blossom's  pretty  face, 
what  might  not  be  done ! 

For  the  girl  was  sweet  to  look  at,  with  a  beauty  of 
delicate  outline,  and  soft,  changing  color,  and  with  an 
expression  in  her  innocent  brown  eyes  as  though  they 
had  but  just  opened  wonderingly  upon  the  world.  It 
was  hardly  the  highest  type  of  beauty,  and  one  which 
the  touch  of  illness  or  long-settled  sorrow  might  sweep 
away  entirely,  but  very  sweet  and  winsome,  neverthe- 
less, and  not  to  be  lightly  valued.  It  won  for  her  more 
friends  than  she  knew ;  though  these,  to  be  sure,  were 
rather  of  the  opposite  sex  than  her  own.  Major 
Bryce,  who  remembered  her  as  a  baby,  had  always  a 
rough,  good-natured  word  for  the  girl;  and  the  other 
officers  at  the  post,  especially  the  younger  ones,  hung 
about  the  store  upon  the  flimsiest  pretexts,  with  the 
hope  of  catching  a  passing  glimpse  of  her  pretty  face, 
if  nothing  more.  But  in  all  these  schemes  they  were 
foiled.  No  fashionable  mother,  with  an  eye  to  the  pro- 
prieties and  a  fine  settlement,  could  have  watched  over 
a  daughter  with  greater  vigilance  than  did  this  woman 
to  whom  instinct  and  inborn  craft  were  the  only  guides. 

The  young  men  might  squander  their  pay,  and  daw- 
dle away  their  time,  at  the  store,  if  they  chose ;  but 
no  moated  castle  was  ever  more  impregnable  than  that 
little  parlor,  with  its  gaudy  furbishing,  the  door  of 
which  was  in  plain  sight,  and  behind  which  Blossom 
was  safely  ensconced,  all  unconscious  of  her  state  of 
siege. 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  105 

"You've  turned  the  cold  shoulder  on  us  of  late," 
said  the  red-faced  cavalry-captain,  Luttrell,  in  an  insinu- 
ating tone,  after  he  had  hung  about  the  store  for  a  long 
half-hour  one  day. 

"  It  isn't  for  a  decent  woman,  and  a  widow  like  me, 
to  be  opening  her  house  to  everybody,"  Mrs.  Stubbs 
rejoined  in  a  coldly  virtuous  tone. 

"  But  you  might  give  a  place  to  an  old  friend,"  said 
the  captain,  with  a  tender  leer  from  his  watery  eyes. 
The  bold  scheme  of  making  love  to  the  old  woman  did 
cross  his  mind,  and,  by  this  means,  to  gain  a  footing  in 
that  paradise,  concerning  which  the  wildest  rumors 
floated  about  the  post. 

"  An  old  friend  !  "  repeated  Mrs.  Stubbs  contemptu- 
ously. "  And  will  you  be  pleased  to  tell  me,  Captain 
Luttrell,  if  it  is  six  months,  or  three,  since  we  first  saw 
you  out  here  ?  And,  if  it's  my  society  they  want,  my 
old  friends,  as  you  call  'em,  have  enough  of  that,  and 
welcome,  here  in  the  store.  There's  no  need  to  open 
the  door  of  the  house." 

"  So  you  only  opened  it  to  us  before  for  the  sake  of 
what  you  could  make  out  of  us  ?  "  said  the  captain,  inso- 
lent in  defeat. 

"  I  sha'n't  deny  it  if  you  choose  to  say  so,"  Mrs. 
Stubbs  replied  coldly.  "Perhaps  you  came  to  us  as 
much  for  the  eatin'  an'  drinkin',  an'  a  fire  to  light  yer 
pipes  by,  as  for  the  company  of  such  as  we.  It  wasn't 
for  me  to  be  speakin'  of  you  as  friends."  A  touch  of 
the  old  proud  humility  came  to  the  woman  for  a  mo- 
ment. "  I  served  them  as  came,  as  he  bade  me,  and 
asked  no  questions.  I  served  'em  well,  and  they  paid 
their  reckonin',  —  at  least,  the  most  of  'em  paid  for  what 
they  had,"  at  which  Captain  Luttrell  looked  uncom- 


106  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

fortable.  "  There's  no  occasion  for  it  now,  that's  all." 
And  the  woman  folded  her  arms,  and  regarded  the  dis- 
comfited captain  from  over  the  counter  with  a  defiance 
which  held  not  a  quaver  of  fear  of  him  or  his  words. 

"By !  "  said  the  captain,  in  repeating  the  story 

(with  some  omissions),  "  she  routed  every  man  of  us. 
I  was  glad  to  get  off  with  my  scalp." 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  107 


CHAPTER  IX. 

BLOSSOM'S  VISITOR. 

BUT  if  Mrs.  Stubbs  ruled  at  the  store  with  an  iron 
sceptre,  and  stood,  in  spirit,  like  a  mounted  guard 
bristling  with  spears  before  the  door  of  the  house,  she 
laid  by  her  symbol  of  power,  and  threw  away  her  wea- 
pons of  warfare,  when  once  in  the  little  parlor.  This  was 
Blossom's  province.  If  Mrs.  Stubbs  was  born  to  resist 
and  do  battle,  just  so  surely  was  Blossom  created  for 
all  beautiful  and  delicate  things.  Though  reared  in  the 
doctrine  of  Arminius,  one  can  hardly  hold  to  his  faith, 
when  we  see  how  truly  we  are  all  fore-ordained  and  pre- 
destinated to  certain  paths  in  life,  rooted  into  earth 
from  which  we  cannot  tear  ourselves,  bent  and  twisted, 
and  turned  into  ways  where  we  never  desired  to  go, 
bound  upon  Ixion  wheels  by  chains  we  cannot  break. 
All  the  roughness  and  hardness  of  their  life  the  mother 
took  upon  herself,  —  or  it  was  hers  by  right  of  birth. 
For  Blossom  was  the  easy  way,  the  sunshine,  the  flowers, 
or  whatever  semblance  of  them  came  to  this  dreary, 
bleak  spot  at  this  untoward  season.  It  is  true  they 
were  but  paper  flowers  at  the  best,  and  gave  out  very 
little  fragrance ;  but,  such  as  they  were,  the  girl  took 
tlirm,  and  was  content.  Her  sorrow  }iad  by  this  time 


108  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

ceased  to  press  heavily  upon  her.  There  had  been  no 
constant  companionship  with  her  father,  —  except  for 
those  few  weeks  never  to  be  forgotten,  —  the  privation 
of  which  she  was  to  feel  now :  it  was  over  what  they 
were  to  have  been  to  each  other  that  she  had  grieved 
most  of  all.  It  was  a  disappointment,  even  more  than 
a  loss,  which  had  come  to  her ;  and  disappointments, 
though  they  weigh  heavily,  weigh  not  for  a  long  time 
upon  young  hearts.  She  had  become  accustomed  to 
her  new  home,  and  learned  to  adapt  herself,  after  a  gen- 
tle fashion,  to  its  ways.  Gradually  the  ugly,  low  parlor, 
took  on  a  quaint  grace  from  her  presence.  The  painful 
right  angles  at  which  the  stiff,  uncouth  furniture  had 
been  disposed,  were  broken  up ;  and  even  the  most 
obdurate  of  tables  and  sofas  found  their  place  at  last. 
A  little  chintz  and  muslin,  and  skilful  handiwork,  toned 
down  the  gay  colors ;  and  here,  in  a  bower  of  her  own 
devising,  Blossom  spent  much  of  her  time.  Quiet  and 
sometimes  rather  lonely  hours  they  were,  in  which  she 
wrote  long  letters  to  the  good  woman  who  had  been  a 
mother  to  her,  and  to  the  school-friends  who  even  so 
soon  began  to  have  interests  which  she  could  not  share. 
The  mails  were  necessarily  irregular,  and  perhaps  this 
would  explain  why  so  few  replies  were  ever  received  to 
her  missives ;  though,  doubtless,  Mrs.  Stubbs  could  have 
told  the  fate  of  more  than  one  of  them.  There  was  a 
piano  here,  the  only  one  at  the  post,  which  had  come 
all  the  way  across  the  plains  in  the  train  with  Blossom. 
For  Stubbs  would  have  brought  out  a  chime  of  brazen 
bells,  if  it  could  have  added  to  her  happiness. 

"  It  is  like  magic !  Why,  Miss  Blossom,  you  are  a 
witch,"  Captain  Elyot  said  the  first  time  he  was  admitted 
after  this  transformation.  He  had  known  the  place  in 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  109 

its  shabby  old  days,  and  had  seen  it  in  its  hideous  new 
guise,  and  could  hardly  believe  it  to  be  the  same.  Blos- 
som blushed,  and  dropped  her  eyes,  and  laughed  shyly, 
feeling  quite  repaid  for  her  pains  by  this  brusque,  out- 
spoken praise.  Captain  Elyot  found  his  way  here  often 
of  evenings  now.  You  may  be  sure  that  he  met  with 
no  such  reception  as  had  been  given  to  Captain  Luttrell 
when  he  asked  permission  to  call.  No,  indeed !  If  he 
had  been  the  fairy  prince  himself,  the  doors  could  not 
have  opened  wider  or  more  willingly  at  his  approach. 
Mrs.  Stubbs  welcomed  him  with  her  best  smile  and 
gown,  though  the  latter  was  the  fresher  of  the  two,  it 
must  be  owned.  Smiles  were  not  in  her  way  now,  poor 
woman !  And  such  dainty  dishes  as  she  set  before  him 
when  he  joined  them  at  supper  !  as  he  did  sometimes,  by 
special  invitation,  to  the  envy  of  the  other  officers  at 
the  post,  who  had  not  forgotten  Mrs.  Stubbs's  culinary 
skill.  And,  as  though  this  were  not  enough,  the  finest 
tobacco  in  the  store  was  brought  in  for  his  approval. 

"  Just  one  pipe,"  urged  his  hostess ;  "  bless  you,  Blos- 
som and  me  don't  mind.  It  ain't  quite  what  the  last 
was,  though  I  don't  hear  'em  complain." 

But  the  young  man  had  no  desire  to  puff  a  pipe  in 
Blossom's  very  face. 

"  Thanks ;  but  I've  tried  it  already,  and  fancy  it's 
rather  better  than  that  I  brought  from  the  States.  I 
should  prefer  a  song  now,  if  Miss  Blossom  would  be  so 
obliging." 

Upon  which  Blossom  tucked  her  curls  behind  her  little 
pink  ears,  and  sang  not  only  one,  but  two  or  three,  of  her 
simple  songs.  They  were  not  much  to  hear.  I  fear  it 
was  hardly  worth  while  to  bring  the  piano  so  far.  Still 
the  young  man  found  it  very  agreeable  to  listen  to  the 


110  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

quaver  of  the  sweet,  high-pitched  voice.  The  air  was 
thin  and  poor;  the  words  soulless.  They  were  some- 
thing about  lovers,  and  sighing  and  dying,  from  which, 
though  interesting  and  awful  enough  in  themselves, 
very  silly  verses  can  be  made.  She  sang  them  correctly, 
lingering  upon  the  notes  where  she  had  been  taught  to 
dwell,  playing  the  accompaniments  in  horribly  good 
time,  and  rising  from  her  seat  at  last  with  a  timid  smile 
upon  her  lips.  Neither  she  nor  the  young  captain  (who 
believed  that  Miss  Claudia's  Italian  airs,  to  a  strumming 
accompaniment  on  a  Spanish  guitar,  were  nothing  so 
charming  as  these)  gave  a  thought  to  the  sorrows  of 
the  song,  those  happy,  factitious  sorrows,  which  come 
at  most,  only  like  a  grateful  cloud  between  us  and  the 
intense  glow  of  our  happiness. 

"  I  wish  you'd  sing  to  Orme,  —  Lieutenant  Orme,  you 
know,  —  who  came  out  with  us.  I'll  bring  him  round 
some  night,  if  you  don't  mind,"  Captain  Elyot  said,  when 
Blossom,  innocently  satisfied  with  herself,  had  taken  up 
her  crocheting  again.  "  He's  the  most  homesick  fellow 
on  the  plains ;  and,  as  I  have  taken  him  in  hand,  I  feel 
tolerably  responsible  for  his  cure.  If  you  have  no 
objection,  Mrs.  Stubbs." 

"  I  know  him,"  Mrs.  Stubbs  said  graciously.  "  There 
don't  seem  to  be  any  harm  in  the  boy.  You  may  bring 
him  round  if  you  like ;  though  I've  no  notion  of  open- 
ing the  house  to  everybody,  and  you  may  as  well  stop 
there." 

"  I  shouldn't  think  of  bringing  any  one  else,"  Captain 
Elyot  said  quickly.  Open  the  house  to  everybody !  That 
was  the  last  wish  of  his  heart.  "  He  is  low-spirited,  and 
has  fallen  into  a  set  I  don't  like ;  and  I  fancied  if  he 
could  break  away  from  it  in  some  way,  by  making  new 
friends  perhaps,  he'd  see  the  folly  of  it  after  a  while." 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  Ill 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  sing  to  him,"  Blossom  said 
timidly ;  "  that  is,  if  you  think  he  would  care  to  hear 
me." 

Care  to  hear  her  ?  It  would  be  strange  indeed  if  he 
did  not. 

"No  fear  of  that.  And  I  may  bring  him  to-morrow 
night  ?  "  the  captain  asked  quickly,  fearful  lest  the  tide 
might  turn  against  his  friend. 

"  If  you  please ; "  and  Blossom  gave  an  anxious  glance 
to  her  mother,  who  did  not  object. 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  the  very  next  evening, 
and  many  more  if  the  truth  be  told,  found  the  young 
lieutenant  in  Mrs.  Stubbs's  parlor.  He  had  objected  at 
first. 

"  Oh,  a  plague  on  the  women  ! "  he  had  said,  affecting, 
like  a  very  young  man  as  he  was,  blas£,  ill-fitting  airs. 
"  I'd  half  promised  Luttrell  and  the  rest  of  'em  "  — 

"  But  I  made  a  positive  engagement,"  Captain  Elyot 
said  steadily.  "  And,  Orme,  there  isn't  a  man  at  the 
post  but  would  think  himself  in  luck  just  now  to  have 
the  chance  to  go  there." 

"Well,  if  you  insist,"  said  Orme,  with  the  faintest 
possible  air  of  martyrdom,  resigning  himself  to  circum- 
stances. 

But  he  forgot  his  unwillingness  when  Blossom  came 
out  of  a  corner  to  greet  him.  So  this  was  the  young 
man  who  was  likely  to  fall  into  bad  ways,  and  who  only 
needed  friends  to  set  him  right!  Blossom's  tender  heart 
yearned  over  him  with  a  real  missionary  desire  for  his 
well-doing.  Oh,  how  angry  he  would  have  been,  could 
he  have  known  in  what  a  light  he  had  been  made  to 
appear  before  this  charming  girl,  whose  beauty  and 
pretty  shy  ways  startled  him  out  of  all  indifference  ! 


112  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

She  sang  to  him  over  and  over  again.  It  was  for  this 
he  had  come.  But  she  opened  her  eyes  in  wonder  when 
the  young  lieutenant  himself  sat  down  to  the  piano, 
and  to  a  dashing  accompaniment  trolled  out  a  bold  sol- 
dier-song in  a  fine,  rich  voice.  There  was  something 
of  the  clink  of  glasses  in  the  shivering  chords,  and 
women  and  death  in  the  song,  which  brought  a  thrill  to 
Blossom's  untried  heart,  and  'tears  to  her  eyes.  She 
could  not  have  expressed  it  in  words ;  but  she  felt  that 
this  was  not  at  all  like  her  poor  little  songs,  over  which, 
with  all  their  sighing  and  dying,  nobody  had  thought 
of  shedding  a  tear. 

"  Why  did  you  ask  me  to  sing  ?  "  she  said,  with  the 
tears  still  in  her  eyes. 

"Why?"  repeated  the  young  man,  who  seemed  to 
have  caught  all  of  Blossom's  shyness. 

He  had  thrown  the  song  off  carelessly,  and  was  aston- 
ished and  immensely  flattered  by  the  undreamed-of 
result. 

"You  gave  me  a  great  pleasure,"  he  said,  with  all  his 
heart  in  the  words. 

Captain  Elyot  should  have  been  quite  triumphant  over 
the  chord  of  sympathy  which  these  two  seemed  to  have 
struck  at  once.  But  human  nature  is  a  bundle  of  con- 
tradictions ;  and  for  one  short  moment,  as  he  saw  the 
wonder,  and  almost  awe,  creeping  over  Blossom's  face  as 
the  song  rolled  out,  freighted  with  a  love  which  defied 
death,  he  wished  he  had  not  brought  him  here.  Then, 
ashamed  of  the  ungenerous  feeling,  he  settled  himself 
in  a  corner,  and  listened  to  the  two,  who  had  ferreted 
some  duets  from  an  old  music-book,  and  were  patiently 
picking  them  out,  regardless  of  other  ears  than  their 
own.  Bang,  bang  !  went  the  heavy  bass  of  the  lieuten- 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  113 

ant's  accompaniment.  Blossom's  shrill,  sweet  voice 
trembled  as  she  came  in  out  of  all  time,  and  was  finally 
swept  away  entirely  by  the  tenor,  which  skipped  back 
and  forth  in  a  marvellous  way  from  one  part  to  another. 
The  captain,  uneasy  in  his  shaded  corner,  pulled  his 
mustache,  and  tried  to  believe  that  this  was  what  he  had 
striven  to  effect.  But,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he 
rebelled  at  the  fate  which  had  denied  him  a  voice  for 
singing.  It  was  certainly  very  good  discipline  for  the 
young  man. 

"  I  had  no  idea  that  it  would  be  half  so  jolly,"  said 
the  young  lieutenant,  when  at  last  they  had  come  away. 
"I'm  under  no  end  of  obligations  to  you,  Elyot,  for 
taking  me  there.  The  old  woman  asked  me  to  call 
again,  and  so  I  will.  I  promised  Miss  Blossom,  by  the 
way,  to  look  in  for  an  hour  to-morrow  morning,  and  try 
those  duets  again." 

"  Oh  !  you  did,  did  you  ?  "  the  captain  replied  rather 
grimly. 

But,  after  all,  was  not  this  what  he  had  desired  to 
bring  about  ? 


114  HIS  INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  COUSIN  ON  THE  JERSEY  SHORE. 

BUT  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  pure  friendliness 
had  moved  Mrs.  Stubbs  thus  to  introduce  these 
wolves  into  her  sheepfold  ;  for  of  men,  both  young  and 
old,  she  had  suddenly  become  suspicious. 

"  Does  the  old  cat  think  we  are  after  her  and  her 
money  ?  "  said  Captain  Luttrell  with  an  oath. 

Captain  Luttrell,  being  always  in  debt,  and  having 
nothing  to  depend  upon  but  his  pay  and  his  winnings 
at  cards,  naturally  resented  such  a  suspicion. 

"  It  would  take  the  d — 1  of  a  spirit  to  stand  in 
Stubbs's  shoes,"  he  added. 

"  Or  none  at  all,"  amended  a  young,  lieutenant  of 
infantry,  whose  smooth  face  showed  through  the  to- 
bacco-smoke, somewhat  after  the  fashion  of  Raphael's 
beclouded  cherubs. 

"  You're  right ;  none  at  all,  by  —  "  repeated  the  cap- 
tain ;  "  and  that  wouldn't  do  for  me,  you  know." 

But  in  truth,  Mrs.  Stubbs  had  never  once  thought  of 
herself.  It  would  seem  as  though  the  instinct  of  per- 
sonal vanity,  or  self-consciousness  indeed,  which  is  late 
to  die  in  a  woman's  heart,  had  been  crushed  out  of  life 
in  her :  it  had  been  made  to  stand  aside  for  more  vital 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  115 

matters,  or  had  been  transferred  to  Blossom,  in  whom 
was  all  her  pride  now.  No  thought  of  personal  adorn- 
ment or  personal  triumph  occurred  to  her.  Her  eyes 
were  still  bright  and  black,  with  a  reddish  heat  in 
their  depths ;  but  the  soft  shine  of  her  hair  was  broken 
by  the  rough  gray  threads  that  had  found  their  way 
there.  The  fresh,  high  color,  which  had  given  her  a 
kind  of  vulgar  beauty,  not  unlike  that  of  the  gaudy 
prints  with  which  Stubbs  had  delighted  to  bedeck 
his  walls,  had  faded  away.  The  blood  had  rushed  to 
her  heart  that  night  when  they  brought  her  husband 
in  stiff  and  stark,  and  it  had  forgotten  its  way  back. 
And  then  she  was  no  longer  young,  hardly  middle-aged ; 
and  what  was  personal  vanity  to  one  in  whom  every 
passion  but  that  of  ambition  was  dead?  If  she  had 
marked  the  change  in  herself  from  the  old  comeliness 
to  the  faded,  listless  face  she  bore  now,  it  was  only  as 
she  might  have  noticed  the  change  in  another  woman, 
and  with  no  pang  like  regret.  She  had  lived  her  life 
(the  life  in  which  red  cheeks  and  bright  eyes  play  a 
part)  so  long  ago  as  to  have  almost  forgotten  it.  She 
had  had  her  day :  it  was  for  fine  ladies  alone  to  try  to 
lengthen  this  out  into  a  kind  of  twilight.  It  was  only 
in  Blossom  that  the  mother's  vanity  revived  and  glowed 
again.  She  delighted  to  see  the  child  in  the  new-made 
gowns,  the  bright  ribbons,  and  nameless  gewgaws  she 
had  brought  from  the  East,  and  which  were  tasteful  and 
simple  enough  to  please  a  more  cultivated  fancy.  To 
her  mind,  they  were  not  half  fine  enough.  All  the 
treasures  of  the  store  were  open  to  Blossom.  She  had 
only  to  choose.  She  might  have  been  swathed  in  silks, 
but  that  silks  formed  an  insignificant  part  of  the  mer- 
chandise at  the  post. 


116  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

It  warmed  the  woman's  heart  with  a  wicked  delight 
to  see  the  envious  eyes  following  the  girl  whenever 
she  rode  or  walked  under  her  mother's  jealous  care. 
Though  outwardly  unmoved,  it  rejoiced  her  soul  to 
receive  the  artful  flattery  of  the  men  about  her.  The 
tribute  was  for  Blossom,  though  it  passed  through  her 
hands.  It  was  the  child's  due,  and  less  than  belonged 
to  her  by  right.  Not  once  did  she  dreani  of  taking  any 
of  it  to  herself.  But  it  was  pouring  treasures  into  the 
deep.  The  givers  gained  nothing  by  it.  The  house- 
door  remained  closed  to  them.  As  for  Captain  Luttrell, 
he  was  an  object  of  indifference,  or  angry  impatience, 
as  he  chose  to  conduct  himself.  Nothing  was  to  be 
won  by  conciliating  such  as  he.  She  had  not  spent  her 
life,  so  far,  among  army  people,  without  nourishing  an 
unnatural  idea  of  the  importance  of  "  family,"  nor  with- 
out learning  all  that  could  be  told  of  each  one  about 
her.  To  place  Blossom  upon  an  equality  with  the  best 
of  these,  to  make  her  a  lady,  —  in  that  outer  sense 
which  gives  so  poor  a  definition  of  the  word,  —  was  the 
one  object  of  the  woman's  life.  Circumstances  had 
brought  Captain  Elyot  and  Blossom  together,  and  she 
rejoiced  over  it  with  silent  but  exultant  joy.  He  had 
prospective  wealth ;  but  that  was  nothing.  Was  not 
Blossom  rich  already  ?  with  gold,  and  to  spare,  for  who- 
ever came  wooing  with  the  mother's  consent  ?  It  was 
his  fine  family  connections  which  had  won  him  some- 
thing more  than  toleration  from  the  sutler's  wife.  She 
had  heard  Miss  Claudia  refer  to  these  rather  boastfully 
months  before.  Poor  Miss  Claudia  had  ceased  to  refer 
to  Captain  Elyot  in  any  way  now.  She  was  unconscious, 
she  was  indifferent,  she  was  every  thing  but  proud  and 
boastful  now,  when  his  name  was  mentioned.  But  the 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  117 

indifference  and  the  unconsciousness  were  so  exagge- 
rated that  there  was  danger  of  both  being  misinter- 
preted. Mrs.  Stubbs,  indeed,  called  them  by  another 
name.  But  she  had  treasured  unwittingly  the  words 
her  ears  had  caught  of  the  fine  family  to  which  Captain 
Elyot  belonged.  Here  was  the  opportunity  thrown  into 
her  own  hands  to  put  Blossom  into  the  position  she  so 
coveted  for  her.  Her  eagerness  almost  outstripped  her 
caution.  If  Captain  Elyot  had  been  less  the  true  gen- 
tleman that  he  was,  he  would  have  seen  through  it  all, 
kissed  her  pretty  daughter  perhaps,  and  laughed  in  the 
mother's  face  ;  though  he  would  have  been  a  bold  man, 
I  confess.  As  it  was,  he  took  it  all  as  simple  friendli- 
ness, and  gratitude  for  the  slight  service  he  had  ren- 
dered the  family.  "  Perhaps  you'll  look  into  the  parlor 
a  moment,  the  child  seems  a  little  low  in  her  mind  to- 
day ;  "  or  "  Maybe  you'll  be  dropping  in  for  an  hour 
this  evening,  Captain  Elyot ;  Blossom  was  saying  that 
she  had  not  seen  you  for  a  week,"  Mrs.  Stubbs  would 
remark ;  and  the  young  man  heard  nothing  in  the  words 
but  an  innocent  desire  to  vary  the  monotony  of  the 
girl's  life,  and  never  dreamed  of  the  purpose  underly- 
ing them.  He  had  stood  by  them  in  their  great  trouble : 
it  was  but  natural  that  they  should  turn  to  him  now. 
And  had  he  not  assured  Blossom  that  he  would  be  a 
brother  to  her  ?  The  words  had  had  a  somewhat  the- 
atrical sound  when  he  uttered  them,  though  the  feeling 
which  gave  rise  to  them  had  been  honest  and  warm. 
Nor  had  it  changed.  He  was,  indeed,  only  partly  con- 
scious of  the  interest  Blossom  had  aroused  in  him. 
The  mother,  it  must  be  confessed,  was  hardly  to  his 
mind  ;  and  the  social  position  of  the  family  was  one 
which,  in  the  eyes  of  those  around  him,  would  by  no 


118  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

means  warrant  the  intimacy  established.  But,  up  to  a 
certain  point,  lines  of  caste  are  but  ropes  of  sand  to 
a  man.  So  he  made  his  almost  daily  visits  to  Blossom, 
and  defended  the  mother  stoutly  when  occasion  arose 
(and  occasion  seemed  always  upon  the  point  of  arising 
just  now,  when  the  Stubbses  were  the  centre  of  interest 
at  the  post).  If  Blossom  had  been  any  other  than  she 
was,  he  would  hardly  have  taken  this  woman  upon  his 
shoulders.  As  it  was,  he  staggered  sometimes  under 
his  load.  But  what  with  envy  among  the  men  who  did 
not  share  their  favor,  and  jealous  spite  among  the 
women,  the  Stubbses  were  hardly  used  just  now ;  and 
chance  had  made  him  their  defender.  No  thought  of 
consequences  disturbed  his  mind. 

For  there  was  a  distant  cousin  down  upon  the  Jersey 
shore  whom  Captain  Elyot  had  never  seen,  but  who  repre- 
sented the  dreadful  future  to  him.  During  his  late  visit 
to  the  East,  in  one  of  those  rash  moments  to  which  the 
most  discreet  are  exposed,  he  had  promised  Uncle  Jere- 
my that  he  would  seek  this  cousin  out,  and  come  to  some 
determination  in  regard  to  a  matter  which  had  been 
urged  upon  him  so  often  of  late  as  to  become  hateful. 

Now,  thinking  it  over,  he  could  not  see  how  he  had 
been  so  weak.  He  had  repented  as  soon  as  the  promise 
was  given ;  and,  pleading  an  urgent  recall  to  his  regi- 
ment, had  escaped  without  making  the  proposed  visit. 
But  there  had  come  a  letter  from  the  old  man  in  regard 
to  the  matter.  It  was  inscribed  in  a  cramped,  stiff  hand, 
and  began,  "  Nephew  Robert,"  this  being  the  nearest 
approach  to  affectionate  address  in  which  Uncle  Jeremy 
ever  indulged. 

It  was  about  this  far-off  cousin  that  he  had  written, 
desiring  Captain  Elyot,  in  words  very  like  a  command, 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  110 

to  communicate  with  her  by  letter,  since  he  had  been 
unable  to  visit  her.  For  a  moment,  as  the  young  man 
read  the  words  so  galling  to  his  spirit,  he  was  tempted 
to  write  to  his  uncle  that  he  wanted  none  of  his  money 
at  such  a  price.  But  the  money  would  be  his  by  law : 
why  should  he  give  it  up  ?  Still,  was  he  willing  to 
fetter  his  whole  future  at  a  whim  of  the  meddlesome 
old  man,  who  had  already,  he  wrote,  prepared  this 
cousin  to  hear  from  Captain  Elyot  ? 

"  What  does  he  take  me  for  ?  "  thought  the  young 
man  angrily.  "  Write  to  this  girl  who  may  be  —  what 
must  she  not  be  to  consent  or  be  a  party  to  such  a 
scheme !  " 

And  he  thrust  the  letter  into  his  desk,  and  strolled 
off  down  to  the  sutler's,  from  force  of  habit  perhaps. 
It  was  a  bright  winter  day,  with  great  soft  clouds  roll- 
ing slowly  across  the  sky,  and  the  broad  river  one  daz- 
zling expanse  of  ice,  gay  with  a  crowd  of  skaters. 
Blossom  stood  behind  the  window,  watching  them  with 
wistful  eyes.  A  slight  headache,  succeeding  a  week  of 
stormy  weather,  had  shut  her  closely  in  the  house,  and 
exhausted  her  indoor  amusements.  She  was  tired  of 
her  needle,  tired  of  her  music,  which,  repeated  again  and 
;i--;iiii  without  a  listener,  sounded  flat  and  dull  even  to 
her  ears.  She  was  disappointed  in  the  novel  Lieutenant 
Orme  had  brought  her  the  night  before.  The  hero  had 
proved  false,  and  left  a  sigh  in  the  girl's  heart.  But  all 
heroes  could  not  prove  false,  she  thought,  with  a  blush 
creeping  up  her  face.  And  then  somebody  rapped  at 
the  door ;  and  the  color  touched  her  hair  when  Captain 
Elyot  stepped  into  the  room. 

"  Why  are  you  riot  out  with  the  others  ?  "  he  asked  stu- 
pidly. He  knew  very  well,  if  he  had  given  it  a  thought, 


120  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

that  no  one  of  the  ladies,  at  least,  would  have  invited 
her.  But  the  words  had  been  mechanical.  He  was 
thinking,  as  she  turned  from  the  window,  how  unlike 
this  girl,  with  her  quick  flush  and  shy  ways,  must  be 
to  the  cousin  down  on  the  Jersey  shore,  who  was  wait- 
ing for  a  letter  from  him.  The  deep  crimson  gown  and 
slender  gold  chain  about  Blossom's  neck  seemed  to 
make  the  whole  room  bright.  Even  her  mourning, 
or  the  outward  semblance  of  it,  was  done  by  proxy. 
It  was  Mrs.  Stubbs  who  wore  the  ugly  black  gowns 
with  stiff  rebellious  folds.  "  He  liked  to  see  ye  look 
pretty,"  the  mother  had  said.  So  Blossom  wore  the 
colors  which  gratified  her  own  taste,  fancying,  in  some 
indefinable  way,  that  she  pleased  her  father  also ;  while 
Mrs.  Stubbs  assumed  the  serge  and  sackcloth. 

Captain  Elyot  picked  up  the  book  Blossom  had  laid 
down,  and,  turning  it  over,  read  Lieutenant  Orme's 
name  in  pencil  on  the  fly-leaf.  What  did  Orme  mean 
by  forming  her  taste  after  such  a  model,  the  weakest  of 
diluted  sentiment !  He  would  speak  to  the  boy. 

"  Silly  trash !  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  continued ; 
for  Blossom  showed  her  mortification  in  her  face.  She 
had  shed  more  tears  over  its  sorrows  than  she  would 
have  cared  to  own.  "  Tell  me  truly,  Miss  Blossom,  what 
did  you  think  of  it  ?  " 

^  —  I  wished  he  had  come  back,"  Blossom  replied 
rather  unintelligibly,  referring  to  the  hero,  who  had 
proved  false. 

Captain  Elyot  laughed  outright. 

"  The  hero  ?  Oh !  but  they  never  do,  —  heroes  of  this 
kind,  who  get  to  be  written  about.  It  is  only  we  matter- 
of-fact,  dull  fellows  in  every-day  life,  who  really  stand 
by  the  women  we  pretend  to  love,  even  though"  — 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  121 

What  Captain  Elyot  was  about  to  say,  since  he  waxed 
earnest  as  he  went  on,  what  he  would  have  blundered 
into  saying,  his  mind  having  wandered  far  from  the 
book  in  his  hand,  cannot  be  told.  He  stopped  short 
without  finishing  his  sentence. 

"But  —  but  that  is  like  a  hero,"  said  Blossom,  roused 
to  an  unusual  intelligence  by  this  burst  of  feeling, 
which  she  did  not  in  the  least  comprehend.  She  was 
only  made  aware  all  at  once,  and  she  knew  not  how, 
that  these  were  her  heroes  of  whom  he  was  speaking 
almost  in  derision.  The  book  had  done  her  no  great 
harm. 

"  Perhaps,"  the  captain  replied,  with  a  shrug  of  his 
shoulders.  "  But  they  would  never  find  themselves  in 
a  novel.  Simple  constancy  is  not  dramatic  enough. 
And,  after  all,  a  man  is  scarcely  a  hero  who  only  follows 
his  inclination.  But  put  on  your  hat,  Miss  Blossom. 
Your  mother  has  given  you  into  my  care  for  an  hour, 
and  I  am  going  to  take  you  out  on  the  ice." 

Blossom's  happy  face  was  a  reward  in  itself  to  the 
young  man  as  she  hastened  away  to  don  the  little 
fur-lined  sack  and  a  Scotch-frieze  cap  she  had  found 
among  her  mother's  stores.  Pinned  up  on  one  side 
with  the  wing  of  a  pigeon,  it  was  not  an  unbecoming 
skating-cap. 

Miss  Laud  and  Claudia  Bryce,  with  two  or  three 
young  officers,  formed  a  group  close  by  the  shore  as 
Captain  Elyot  and  Blossom  descended  to  the  river.  The 
young  ladies  had  donned  their  skates,  and  were  adjust- 
ing scarfs  and  hats,  and  buttoning  gloves  preparatory 
to  striking  out,  when  the  new-comers  appeared.  They 
all  greeted  Captain  Elyot  —  the  young  men,  whose  eyes 
followed  Blossom's  pretty  figure  —  with  rather  unne- 


122  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

cessary  heartiness.  Miss  Bryce,  after  a  conventional 
bow  and  smile,  gave  a  final  pull  at  the  scarf  she  had 
been  tying,  and  swept  away  followed  by  the  others ;  but 
Miss  Laud  managed  to  give  Blossom  a  nod  and  a  word 
in  passing.  She  had  whispered  hastily  to  Claudia  when 
she  saw  them  approaching,  — 

"  Do  speak  to  her,  Claudia :  you  will  never  regret  it." 

"  Not  I,"  Claudia  had  replied  aloud.  Then  she  gave 
Captain  Elyot  the  bow  and  smile  already  spoken  of,  but 
which  were  too  narrow  to  take  in  his  companion.  She 
poised  herself  for  an  instant  to  tie  her  scarf  (she 
would  not  have  the  appearance  of  running  away  from 
this  girl) ;  then  she  struck  off  with  a  peculiar,  undu- 
lating movement  entirely  her  own.  Miss  Bryce's  face 
might  not  be  handsome;  it  was  thin,  and  lacking  in 
color ;  her  hair  and  eyes,  too,  were  pale :  but  her  figure 
was  fine,  even  at  rest,  and  in  motion  it  was  the  perfec- 
tion of  grace. 

Captain  Elyot,  engrossed  in  fitting  the  skates  to  Blos- 
som's little  feet,  took  in  nothing  of  this  side-scene.  He 
had  marked  Claudia's  cool  bow.  It  reminded  him  only 
that  his  relations  with  the  Bryces  had  not  been  quite 
so  intimate  since  his  return  as  formerly.  For  this  he 
doubtless  was  to  blame.  He  had  neglected  to  call  at 
the  major's  of  late.  But  one  does  not  always  take  up 
old  threads  after  a  long  absence ;  and  the  habit  of  drop- 
ping in  there  had  unconsciously  slipped  away  from  him. 

"  Halloo,  Elyot !  —  You  here,  Miss  Blossom  ?  How 
jolly !  I  was  just  on  the  way  to  see  if  your  mother 
would  trust  you  to  me."  And  Lieutenant  Orme  came  up 
in  a  flourish  of  incomprehensible  figures,  including  a  low 
salaam,  which  had  nearly  ended  in  a  somersault.  "  But 
where  are  your  skates,  Elyot  ?  " 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  123 

"  I  forgot  them." 

To  tell  the  truth,  he  had  never  thought  of  them  till 
this  moment.  He  had  not  intended  to  appear  on  the 
ice.  But,  passing  Blossom's  window,  he  had  caught  a 
glimpse  of  her  wistful  eyes  following  the  skaters.  To 
resist  their  unconscious  pleading  was  impossible.  He 
rushed  into  the  store,  took  Mrs.  Stubbs  by  storm, 
obtained  her  consent,  and  had  Blossom  out  of  the  house 
before  a  thought  of  his  own  lack  of  preparation  oc- 
curred to  him. 

"  All  right,  then :  you'll  have  to  hand  her  over  to 
me,"  said  the  boy  coolly.  "  You're  not  afraid,  Miss 
Blossom  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no ! "  replied  Blossom  doubtfully.  She  was 
entirely  confused  by  this  new  arrangement. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,"  said  the  lieutenant ;  and,  be- 
fore she  could  object,  she  was  swept  away. 

Captain  Elyot  looked  after  them  with  an  amused  but 
slightly  bewildered  expression  of  countenance.  It  may 
be  that  his  eyes  betrayed  another  feeling  unacknowl- 
edged, as  they  followed  Blossom's  figure  growing  less 
each  moment  in  the  distance. 

"  She  has  a  lovely  face." 

The  voice  spoke  close  beside  him.  It  was  Miss  Laud, 
who  had  approached  unnoticed. 

"  If  you  will  be  so  good,"  she  was  saying  to  her  cava- 
lier, despatching  him  on  some  errand  to  the  house. 
"  I  will  wait  here.  Captain  Elyot  will  bear  me  company. 
"  Yes,  she  has  a  lovely  face,"  she  repeated  when  they 
were  left  alone. 

"Do  you  think  so?  "  replied  the  young  man,  quite  off 
his  guard.  And,  forgetting  that  this  girl  was  almost  a 
stranger,  he  suffered  the  thought  in  his  mind  to  spring 


124  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

from  his  lips :  "  but  I'm  afraid  it  is  going  to  be  disagree- 
able for  her  here.  I  think  they  might  be  more  kind  to 
her." 

"  And  so  do  I,"  assented  Miss  Laud.  "  For  my  own 
part,  I  should  be  glad  to  know  her,  though  I  cannot 
take  the  initiative,  being  only  a  visitor.  I  wish,  indeed, 
'  they '  would  be  more  kind  to  her,  as  you  say.  But, 
after  all,  Captain  Elyot,  you  can  hardly  expect  the  ladies 
at  the  post  to  make  the  sutler's  daughter  quite  one  of 
themselves." 

"  And  why  not  ?  "  asked  the  young  man,  with  more 
heat  than  wisdom. 

"  Why,  indeed  ?  "  and  Miss  Laud  raised  her  eyebrows, 
and  proceeded  to  cut  graceful  curves  upon  the  ice,  her 
hands  thrust  into  the  pockets  of  her  natty  little  jacket. 
With  all  her  good-will  toward  Claudia  and  Claudia's 
lover  (as  she  regarded  this  young  man),  she  could  not 
be  expected  to  lose  sight  entirely  of  her  own  interests. 
"  Why,  indeed  ? "  she  repeated,  balancing  herself 
before  him,  and  preparing  to  argue  the  question.  "  You 
gentlemen  think  her  very  pretty,  and  all  that,  and 
blame  the  women  for  not  taking  her  up.  Yes,  you  do. 
I  heard  Captain  Luttrell  last  night.  He  was  passing  our 
window  with  Lieutenant  Gibbs ;  and  he  used  an  oath  too. 
It  is  not  nice  in  you  gentlemen,  the  way  you  talk  when 
we  ladies  are  out  of  the  way.  He  raved  about  her 
with  his  oaths,  the  great  swearing  captain,  —  as  though 
she  would  look  at  him !  You  think  the  ladies  are  in 
fault,  I  say,  because  they  don't  make  her  one  of  them- 
selves ;  but,  after  all,  they  are  more  kind  to  her  than 
you,  who  would  amuse  yourselves.  She  is  fresh  and 
a  new  face ;  but  no  one  of  you  would  forget  himself  to 
marry  her,"  said  the  artfully  frank  young  lady. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  125 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  stammered  the  young  man, 
growing  red. 

Miss  Laud's  escort  appeared  at  this  moment. 

"  Would  you  f  "  she  threw  back  saucily  as  she  swept 
away? 

Would  he?  What  a  shield  an  impertinent  woman 
could  make  of  her  sex !  Would  he  marry  the  sutler's 
daughter  ?  No,  of  course  not :  he  was  already  im- 
plicated in  another  affair.  And  then,  as  Blossom's 
innocent  face  rose  before  him,  there  rose  beside  it 
another,  and  by  no  means  a  pleasing  vision,  of  the 
cousin  down  on  the  Jersey  shore.  How  he  hated  the 
whole  subject !  And  what  did  this  girl  mean  by  thrust- 
ing it  upon  him  ?  He  was  chilled  with  standing  upon 
the  ice.  But  he  could  not  desert  Blossom,  having 
brought  her  here.  While  he  was  trying  to  decide 
whether  to  leave  and  go  in  search  of  his  own  skates, 
or  seek  the  lieutenant,  who  had  carried  the  girl  off 
without  so  much  as  an  apology,  he  saw  them  coming 
toward  him,  her  little  figure  swaying  hither  and  thither, 
her  hand  clasped  in  Orme's.  Her  cheeks  had  caught 
the  red  glow  of  the  sunset ;  the  sun  itself  was  re- 
flected from  her  eyes.  Something  like  jealousy  touched 
his  heart.  Still  what  did  it  matter  ?  She  was  nothing 
to  him,  and  the  'boy  was  his  friend. 

But  though  he  borrowed  the  lieutenant's  skates,  at 
Blossom's  shy  suggestion,  and  took  a  turn  or  two,  with 
her  beside  him,  he  was  silent,  and  not  like  himself 
at  all.  Poor  Blossom  wondered  if  she  could  have 
vexed  him.  She  stole  anxious  glances  at  him  from  time 
to  time  as  they  went  on,  but  dared  not  speak,  save  in 
reply  to  his  occasional  words.  No  one  avoided  them, 
apparently  ;  and  yet  they  were  always  alone ;  while  the 


126  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

others  formed  zigzag  lines,  or  improvised  a  dance,  cut- 
ting strange  figures,  noisily  merry,  —  a  gay  company,  in 
which  Blossom  never  for  a  moment  found  herself.  To 
an  outsider  Captain  Elyot  might  have  seemed  to  blame 
for  this;  for,  looking  neither  to  right  nor  left,  he  guided 
her  straight  on,  past  them  all,  to  where  only  the  river 
with  its  broad  sweep  was  before  them.  On  and  on 
they  went  in  the  face  of  the  wind,  toward  the  sunset, 
Blossom's  crimson  skirts  and  little  red  scarf  flying  out 
like  pennons  behind  them,  the  gay  voices  sounding 
farther  and  farther  away. 

"  You  do  not  care  for  them  ?  It  is  far  more  pleasant 
off  here,  with  the  river  all  to  ourselves,"  Captain  Elyot 
said  carelessly,  but  with  a  sharp  glance  at  the  wistful 
face,  that  would  turn  of  itself  toward  the  merry  party 
as  the  two  swept  by. 

"  Yes,"  Blossom  assented ;  but  her  eyes  belied  the 
word,  and  it  came  out  with  a  sigh. 

It  was  a  little  thing ;  but  it  touched  the  young  man 
unaccountably.  A  few  words,  a  smile  or  two,  that  they 
would  never  miss  from  their  store  of  good-nature,  would 
make  this  child  so  happy !  and  yet  they  withheld  both. 
He  hated  them  all  as  they  turned,  and  came  back 
more  slowly.  The  sun  had  dropped  out  of  sight ;  the 
air  was  icy.  Every  one  was  hastening  toward  the  shore 
as  they  came  up.  Lieutenant  Orme  was  taking  off  Miss 
Laud's  skates. 

"  How  sure  your  strokes  are ! "  that  young  woman 
said,  with  an  approving  nod,  to  Blossom,  who  blushed 
and  glowed  under  this  praise.  But  Captain  Elyot  re- 
ceived it  stoically.  He  was  somewhat  doubtful  as  to 
Miss  Laud's  good-will.  "  Yes :  I  was  telling  Lieutenant 
Orme  just  now,  that  you  and  he  were  the  best-matched 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  127 

couple  on  the  ice,"  she  went  on  mischievously,  quietly 
watching  Captain  Elyot's  face,  which  flushed  in  spite 
of  himself. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  fear  I  hurt  you,"  he  said  to 
Blossom,  whose  skate-strap  he  was  undoing.  He  had 
given  it  a  sudden  twitch.  But  no:  Blossom  was  con- 
scious of  nothing  but  a  glow  of  happiness  in  her  little 
heart.  She  smiled  her  good-by  to  this  new  friend,  sorry, 
and  wondering  that  the  captain  should  take  her  away 
in  such  haste.  He  gave  Miss  Laud  a  bow,  stiff  and 
ceremonious,  withal  so  frozen,  that  it  would  have  set 
Blossom  to  trembling  with  fright,  had  it  been  bestowed 
upon  her.  But  Miss  Laud  only  smiled  saucily:  she 
was  by  no  means  extinguished.  Captain  Elyot  left  Blos- 
som at  her  door,  and  went  on  to  his  quarters.  Once 
there,  he  bolted  his  door,  and  began  to  walk  back  and 
forth,  his  thumbs  caught  in  his  pockets,  his  head  bent, 
and  a  scowl  on  his  forehead.  At  last  he  sat  down 
before  his  desk,  and  began  to  write  a  reply  to  his  uncle's 
letter  received  so  long  before.  It  was  with  tardy  haste, 
inasmuch  as  weeks  had  gone  by  since  its  reception,  and 
no  mail  would  leave  the  fort  now  for  some  days.  He 
dashed  off  the  first  sentence  or  two  with  a  scratch  of 
his  pen.  It  mattered  little  to  him,  he  wrote,  whom  he 
married,  if  marry  he  must.  Still  —  and  this  came  after 
the  first  heat  and  a  considerable  pause  —  he  should 
hardly  like  to  make  a  distinct  proposition  to  any  girl 
until  he  had  seen  her.  However,  he  would  try  for  a 
brief  leave  of  absence  early  in  the  spring ;  or  he  might, 
perhaps,  leave  the  service  entirely. 

He  folded  and  sealed  his  letter  with  rather  unusual 
care,  remembering  with  some  annoyance,  as  he  did  so, 
that  he  must  prepare  to  go  around  to  Major  Bryce'a. 


128  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

Mrs.  Bryce  had  waylaid  him  upon  the  river,  and  asked 
him  to  tea,  feeling,  no  doubt,  that  it  was  time  she  came 
to  Claudia's  assistance.  "  Quite  a  family  party,  to  meet 
no  one  but  ourselves,"  she  had  assured  him.  But  with 
a  vivid  recollection  of  Claudia's  cool  greeting,  and  Miss 
Laud's  over-frank  speech,  this  was  not  an  inviting  pros- 
pect. 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  129 


CHAPTER  XL 

A  GAME  OF  CARDS. 

I  TELL  you,  Claudia,  the  man  is  in  love  with  her," 
said  Miss  Laud,  pausing,  with  her  hat  half  re- 
moved from  her  head,  to  utter  this  oracular  remark. 
They  were  disrobing  in  Claudia's  bedroom  after  their 
hour  on  the  ice. 

Claudia  bent  over  a  refractory  button,  hiding  her 
face. 

"  Why  do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  tried  him.  I  praised  her,  and  he  was  ridiculously 
pleased ;  then  I  abused  her  a  little,  and  he  forgot  his 
manners,  and  was  angry  at  once.  What  a  fool  the  man 
must  be !  There  is  nothing  pretty  about  the  girl,  but 
her  pink-and-white  face,  and  a  pair  of  eyes  which  she 
knows  how  to  use." 

"  It  was  coming  over  the  plains  together,"  said  Clau- 
dia with  a  sigh. 

Fate  had  been  cruel  to  her.  If  she  had  but  been  in 
Blossom's  place  I 

"  And  he  thought  the  ladies  might  be  more  kind  to 
her,"  Miss  Laud  went  on,  recalling  every  part  of  her 
conversation  with  Captain  Elyot,  and  making  her  own 
selections  from  it. 


130  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

"  Did  he,  indeed !  "  Claudia  said  with  scorn. 

This  was  entirely  too  much.  It  certainly  was  hard 
to  bear  from  Claudia's  point  of  view. 

"  I  presume  he  thinks  we  should  all  receive  her,  if 
he  made  her  his  wife  ?  " 

Miss  Claudia  had  brought  an  unusual  color  from  her 
exercise  on  the  ice ;  and  her  voice  just  now  had  a  touch 
of  the  sharp  air  they  had  left  outside. 

"  And  you  would  not  ?  "  said  Miss  Laud  half  inter- 
rogatively, as  she  began  to  brush  out  her  thick  auburn 
hair. 

"I!" 

Claudia's  expression  and  attitude  were  tragic. 

"  Still  I  do  think  it  would  have  been  wiser  to  show 
her  some  civility,"  her  friend  went  on. 

Claudia's  obstinacy  had  only  foiled  her  desires.  She 
had  only  made  the  girl  appear  ill  used.  And  what  so 
natural  now  as  that  Captain  £lyot  should  take  up  her 
defence  ?  If  the  affair  had  been  in  her  hands,  thought 
Miss  Laud,  she  could  have  managed  it  after  a  much 
better  fashion,  and  brought  him  round  at  last,  in  spite 
of  Miss  Pretty-face.  She  forgot  that  Claudia,  angry, 
and  fancying  herself  ill  used,  had  not  her  cool  little 
head. 

"  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  late,"  she  said,  looking  at 
her  watch.  "  We  shall  hardly  be  dressed  in  time. 
Why  Claudia,  you  have  not  begun.  You  forget  that  he 
is  coming  to  tea." 

"  Coming  to  tea  !  " 

The  blood  swept  over  Claudia's  thin  face. 

"  I  supposed  you  knew  it.  Yes,  I  heard  your  mother 
ask  him  on  the  ice." 

"  I  don't  know  why  she  should :  he  has  only  called 
here  once  since  he  came  back." 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  131 

"  I  don't  know  why  she  should ;  but  she  certainly 
did,"  Miss  Laud  replied  gayly. 

There  was  a  pleasing  excitement  in  the  prospect  of 
this  visit.  She  need  not  be  ungracious  because  Claudia 
chose  to  consider  herself  neglected.  And  Miss  Laud 
made  her  toilet  with  unusual  care,  loosening  her  hair 
into  soft  waves  about  her  face,  and  choosing  the  most 
becoming,  though  the  plainest,  of  the  gowns  she  had 
brought  from  the  States.  To  tell  the  truth,  she  was 
glad  of  a  little  change.  She  was  becoming  tired  of 
Claudia's  continued  ill-humor,  which  sufficed  to  make 
every  one  uncomfortable,  without  bringing  any  thing  to 
pass.  Claudia's  lovers,  and  Claudia's  disappointment 
and  vexation,  were  amusing  enough  for  a  time  ;  but, 
since  the  affair  appeared  so  hopeless,  she  began  to  think 
that  her  friend  might  pluck  up  more  spirit,  and  forget  it 
all. 

"I  don't  know  why^jrou  should  not  ask  him  here," 
she  said.  "  It  would  be  very  strange  to  ostracize  him, 
when  there  is  really  nothing  as  yet." 

"  How  can  you  say  there  is  nothing  ?  "  replied  Clau- 
dia, who  had  sat  down  listlessly  upon  the  bed  in  spite 
of  her  friend's  warning  as  to  the  lateness  of  the  hour. 

"  He  may  be  engaged  to  her,  for  all  we  know.  I  am 
sure  he  is  there  half  the  time." 

"  He  may  be,"  said  Miss  Laud  slowly. 

She  was  turning  her  head  this  way  and  that  to  ob- 
serve the  effect  of  the  back  of  her  gown  in  the  small 
glass. 

"  Still  I  don't  believe  it.  He  is  just  the  man  to  take 
up  a  girl  whom  everybody  neglected;  but  men  don't 
marry  so.  He'll  never  think  of  marrying  her,  unless 
somebody  puts  it  into  his  head." 


132  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

She  did  not  tell  how  she  had  suggested  it  to  him 
that  very  afternoon,  from  a  spiteful  impulse,  for  which 
she  was  vexed  with  herself  a  moment  later.  What 
a  foolish  speech  she  had  made,  to  be  sure !  And 
what  if  he  should  act  upon  it,  and  marry  the  girl !  It 
would  be  a  shame  for  him  to  thus  throw  himself  away. 
Miss  Laud  was  tempted  to  enter  the  lists  herself,  since 
Claudia  showed  so  little  spirit. 

"  But  you  will  never  be  ready,"  she  said,  putting  the 
last  pin  into  her  hair.  "  Do  bestir  yourself,  dear :  I 
believe  he  has  come  already.  I  heard  a  strange  voice." 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  at  all,"  Claudia  said,  folding  her 
hands  upon  the  lap  of  her  plain  brown  dress. 

"But  do  put  on  a  bit  of  ribbon,  or  something  to 
brighten  your  gown." 

Miss  Laud  was  certainly  very  good-natured.  She 
searched  among  her  own  trinkets  and  furbelows  for  a 
knot  of  soft  blue  silk,  and  fastened  it  with  her  own 
hands  at  Claudia's  throat. 

"  You  never  looked  better,"  she  said,  standing  off, 
and  viewing  her  friend  critically.  "  You  really  have 
quite  a  bright  color,  dear." 

Captain  Elyot,  in  the  mean  time,  was  sitting  in  the 
parlor  with  the  major's  wife,  entirely  unconscious  of  the 
judgment  being  passed  upon  him  in  the  next  room. 
It  was  a  cheerful  apartment,  though  neither  so  spacious, 
nor  so  pretentiously  furnished,  as  the  one  where  Blos- 
som was  accustomed  to  receive  him.  There  was  a  pot 
of  roses  in  the  window,  over  which  the  curtain  was 
now  drawn ;  there  were  roses  also  blooming  upon  the 
wall-paper  (some  former  occupant  of  the  rude  quarters 
had  stretched  it  crookedly  'from  ceiling  to  floor) ;  and 
there  was  a  square  of  bright  carpet  spread  upon  the 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  133 

uneven  floor.  Altogether,  the  major's  parlor  had  been 
considered  a  most  sumptuous  apartment  until  Blos- 
som's arrival  and  the  changes  at  the  sutler's  quarters. 
The  roses  upon  the  wall  seemed  to  swell  and  nod  upon 
their  stems  in  the  firelight,  in  answer  to  the  great  red 
bow  upon  the  cap  of  the  major's  wife,  which  bobbed  up 
and  down  as  she  nodded  her  head.  She  was  striving 
to  entertain  her  guest  until  the  young  ladies  should 
appear,  and  she  could  escape  to  superintend  affairs  in 
the  kitchen.  Jinny's  broad  face  had  filled  up  a  crack 
in  the  doorway  more  than  once  during  the  past  fifteen 
minutes.  But  her  loud,  cheerful  tone  was  not  in  ac- 
cord with  Captain  Elyot's  mood  to-night. 

"  Yes,  yes,  to  be  sure,"  he  said,  hardly  knowing  to 
what  he  was  bowing  assent. 

It  did  not  matter.  Mrs.  Bryce  still  went  on  pouring 
out  a  flood  of  commonplace  intelligence  or  comment,  — 
concerning  the  prospect  of  snow,  the  thaw  last  week, 
the  condition  of  the  ice,  —  until  he  grew  dizzy  in  the 
dark  corner  where  he  sat,  over  the  bobbing  crimson 
bow,  the  bobbing  red  face,  and  the  roses  starting  into 
bloom  whenever  the  light  touched  them. 

"  And  where  have  you  been  so  long  ?  "  she  asked  at 
last,  but  still  without  waiting  for  a  reply.  The  ques- 
tion was  only  a  text,  indeed.  "  It  is  not  well  for  you 
young  men  to  desert  your  old  friends,  or  to  avoid  soci- 
ety when  there  are  ladies  at  the  post.  I  would  never 
have  thought  it  of  you,  Captain  Elyot." 

"  I  am  not  aware  that  I  have  avoided  society.  Cer- 
tainly I  have  not  intended  to  desert  my  friends,"  re- 
plied the  young  man,  somewhat  surprised  by  this  sud- 
den attack.  "I  have  been  unusually  busy  since  my 
return,  and  have  made  few  visits,  I  know ;  but  a  man 


134  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

finds  something  to  do  in  his  company  after  a  three- 
months'  absence." 

"  Yes,"  Mrs.  Bryce  assented,  in  a  doubtful  tone,  and 
with  an  expression  which  would  have  been  arch  in  a 
young  and  pretty  woman,  but  which  only  struck  Cap- 
tain Elyot  as  being  uncommonly  disagreeable. 

She  did  not  intend  to  read  him  a  lecture ;  but  the 
opportunity  was  tempting,  and  it  was  her  privilege  to 
advise  the  young  officers.  Did  she  not  stand  to  them 
in  the  place  of  a  mother  ? 

"  I  fear  the  toddy  down  at  Mrs.  Stubbs's  is  more  to  the 
taste  of  the  unmarried  officers  than  a  dance  with  the 
young  ladies,  or  a  rubber  of  whist  with  the  old  ones. 
Considering  our  resources,  we  are  shamefully  dull  this 
winter." 

"  But  there  is  no  toddy  at  Mrs.  Stubbs's.  All  that  is 
changed,  you  know." 

Captain  Elyot  was  roused  to  attention  now.  Drink- 
ing and  carousing  in  Blossom's  parlor!  The  woman 
knew  better.  It  was  a  shameful  slander. 

"  Ah,  yes,  yes ! "  she  said,  wagging  her  head  wisely, 
and  setting  the  red  ribbons  to  fluttering  again.  "  I 
don't  expect  you  to  tell  tales ;  but  we  all  know  what 
Stubbs's  was  —  and  is  yet,  I  don't  doubt,  in  a  quiet 
way." 

"  You  have  been  misinformed,  madam." 

He  was  too  angry  to  elaborate  his  denial ;  and  her  sex 
intrenched  her  about,  and  made  it  impossible  for  him 
to  answer  her  as  he  would  have  done  if  she  had  been  a 
man.  A  man  !  No  gentleman  would  have  made  such 
an  unfounded  statement.  But  he  hated  her  for  the  mo- 
ment, sitting  by  her  own  fireside,  and  hearing  her  gab- 
ble on  amiably  about  other  matters.  She  had  dealt  her 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  135 

blow;  and  he  had  staggered  under  it,  as  she  fancied. 
She  had  no  desire  to  repeat  it.  And  it  might  be  that 
he  only  needed  to  have  his  folly  pointed  out  to  him 
in  order  to  amend.  She  knew  very  well  that  Mrs. 
Stubbs's  toddy  did  not  entice  him  to  the  sutler's.  But 
she  was  too  wise  a  woman  to  bring  up  Blossom's  name. 
It  was  enough  for  him  to  know  that  his  frequent  visits 
to  the  store  and  to  Mrs.  Stubbs's  house  were  noticed 
and  commented  upon. 

Then  Claudia,  followed  by  her  friend,  entered  the 
room ;  and  Mrs.  Bryce's  words  became  all  gracious  and 
kind,  diamonds  and  pearls  having  taken  the  place  of 
toads  and  scorpions. 

"  Yes,  quite  well,  thank  you,"  Claudia  said  in  reply 
to  his  greeting,  coming  forward  with  her  slow,  graceful 
motion,  and  a  smile  upon  her  lips. 

It  was  a  good  deal  like  a  painted  smile;  but  it  an- 
swered the  purpose,  for,  at  the  moment,  the  young  man 
was  not  inclined  to  be  critical. 

"  She  is  a  little  thin,  I  fancy,"  broke  in  Mrs.  Bryce, 
calling  attention  to  Claudia's  defection  in  beauty.  "  It 
has  been  such  a  dull  winter  ! " 

If  she  had  intended  this  for  another  reproach,  it  was 
quite  thrown  away.  To  Captain  Elyot's  mind  the 
words  only  recalled  Mrs.  Stubbs's  little  formula,  "  It  is 
so  dull  for  the  child ! "  Mrs.  Stubbs  might  be  rough 
and  coarse  in  her  ways ;  but  at  least  she  was  straight- 
forward and  true,  he  thought,  losing  himself  again  in  a 
revery,  from  which  he  was  aroused  by  Mrs.  Bryce's 
bustling  out  of  the  room,  Jinny's  face  having  appeared 
once  more  in  the  doorway. 

The  major  appeared  a  moment  later,  and  with  him 
Lieutenant  Gibbs,  evidently  an  invited  guest.  The 


136  HIS   TNHEEITANCB. 

lieutenant  glared  with  mild  ferocity  over  his  mustache 
at  the  young  captain  seated,  as  he  fancied,  so  com- 
fortably between  the  two  young  ladies.  But  nothing  is 
more  wasted  in  quantities  than  envy;  and  the  lieu- 
tenant need  not  have  made  himself  miserable  over 
Captain  Elyot's  happiness,  since  the  latter  was  heartily 
wishing  himself  away.  All  had  changed  since  the  days 
when  he  used  to  spend  so  much  of  his  time  here.  Was 
the  change  in  himself,  or  them  ?  And  what  had  stripped 
the  place  of  its  charm  ? 

What  a  fine  girl  he  had  thought  Miss  Claudia  to  be 
in  those  days !  (He  looked  back  as  though  years  rolled 
between,  though  scarcely  three  months  had  passed  since 
then.)  She  was  still  elegant  in  manner,  unexceptiona- 
ble in  dress;  but  she  was  not  the  same  to  him.  He 
watched  her  now,  politely  affable  to  Lieutenant  Gibbs, 
and  pronounced  her  cold  and  artificial.  As  for  the 
major's  wife,  with  her  meddlesome  ways —  Then  he 
remembered  himself  with  a  start.  He  was  angry  with 
them  all  to-night,  or  was  the  discord  in  himself  ?  But 
he  must  not  forget  that  he  was  a  guest  in  this  house ; 
and  he  rose  from  the  corner,  and  crossed  the  room  to 
where  Miss  Laud  was  seated,  with  some  voluminous 
knitting  in  her  small  white  hands. 

"  And  what  do  you  find  to  engage  your  time  in  this 
desolate  region  ? "  he  asked  lightly,  conscious,  as  he 
spoke,  of  the  awful  bore  of  trying  to  make  himself 
agreeable,  and  to  this  girl  above  all. 

"  Is  it  a  desolate  region  ?  "  Miss  Laud  asked  in  reply. 

She  evidently  cherished  no  resentment.  She  opened 
her  big  eyes  as  she  threw  back  her  head  to  reply,  crossing 
her  hands  becomingly  upon  the  scarlet  wool  on  her  lap. 

"  I  am   sure   very  sweet  flowers   bloom  here,"    she 


HIS    INHERITANCE.  137 

added;  and  his  eyes  followed  hers  to  where  Claudia 
stood  before  the  mantel,  stately  and  tall,  and  with  a 
bright  color  to-night,  not  unlike  a  fine  dahlia,  indeed. 

"  Only  exotics,  and  soon  to  be  transplanted,"  he  re- 
plied in  the  same  tone. 

"Yes,  that  will  be  Claudia's  fate,  I  suppose,"  she 
said  demurely,  going  back  to  her  knitting. 

"  Probably :  it  is  the  fate  of  all  young  ladies,  is  it 
not?" 

"  To  which  you  resign  us  without  a  sigh." 

"  Why  not,  since  we  of  the  other  sex  are  to  gain  by 
it?" 

What  an  odd  girl !  One  could  never  imagine  what 
she  might  say  next.  He  had  by  no  means  forgotten 
their  passage-at-anns  on  the  ice  this  afternoon,  and  was 
on  his  guard.  But  there  was  all  the  fascination  of 
danger  in  her  speech.  At  least  she  was  unaffected,  and 
he  could  talk  to  her  without  embarrassment,  though 
at  the  risk  of  being  called  upon  to  defend  himself  at 
every  turn.  With  Claudia,  for  some  unaccountable 
reason,  he  was  ill  at  ease,  and  blessed  the  chance  which 
still  found  him  at  Miss  Laud's  side  when  the  tea  was 
brought  in.  He  strove  to  make  himself  agreeable  to 
that  young  woman,  —  feeling  it  a  duty  toward  his  host- 
ess to  exert  himself,  —  and  with  so  surprising  a  result, 
that  Claudia  threw  more  than  one  reproachful  glance 
across  the  room  to  her  friend. 

But  Miss  Laud  was  reckless  of  consequences.  She 
was  tired  of  being  kept  in  the  background,  of  being 
simply  a  receptacle  for  Claudia's  sighs  and  tears. 
Because  Captain  Elyot  had  become  indifferent  to  the 
charms  of  her  friend  was  surely  no  reason  why  every 
other  girl  should  be  forbidden  speaking  to  him. 


138  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

"  I  don't  know  how  I  can  ever  get  through  with  it," 
Claudia  had  said  to  her  friend  in  the  sanctuary  of  the 
bedroom,  referring  to  this  evening. 

"  I  will  assist  you,  dear ;  don't  give  it  a  thought," 
Miss  Laud  had  replied. 

And  so  she  did :  in  fact,  she  quite  took  the  burden 
of  entertaining  the  young  man  upon  her  own  shoulders. 
His  ill-humor  disappeared.  Almost  before  he  knew  it, 
he  had  forgotten  his  annoyance  of  the  afternoon,  and 
they  had  become  friends.  He  had  even  promised  to 
take  her  out  on  the  ice  the  next  day.  Claudia  had 
chosen  to  treat  him  coldly ;  her  smile  had  not  deceived 
him ;  her  mother  had  reproached  him  openly :  but  they 
should  see  that  he  was  indifferent  to  it  all.  The  major 
swallowed  his  tea  and  hurried  away,  pleading  an  en- 
gagement. 

"  Don't  let  me  disturb  you,"  he  said  with  a  good- 
natured  nod  to  the  young  men.  "  I'll  excuse  you  if  I 
hear  you  asked  for." 

The  major  was  always  pleading  an  engagement  which 
took  him  away  from  his  own  home,  though  some  of  the 
other  officers  found  it  a  pleasant  enough  place :  so,  a 
few  short  months  before,  had  Captain  Elyot.  Hardly  a 
day  went  by  then,  without  his  dropping  in  here  morn- 
ing or  evening,  urged  to  come  by  the  major's  wife,  and 
more  gently  invited  by  Miss  Claudia.  They  had  read 
together  by  the  hour, —  he  and  Claudia.  From  the  corner 
where  he  sat  he  could  see  now  a  volume  of  Tennyson 
over  which  they  had  pored  side  by  side.  There  were 
passages  in  it  marked  by  Claudia's  hand,  if  she  had  not 
effaced  the  faint  pencilling.  The  young  man  was  by  no 
means  of  a  sentimental  turn  of  mind :  he  could  hardly 
be  said  to  be  fond  of  poetry,  with  the  exception  of 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  139 

some  stanzas  of  Scott  and  Byron.  But  to  read  verse 
with  a  delicate  feminine  profile  beside  your  own,  and 
with  a  very  slim  white  hand  to  turn  the  leaves,  is  like 
having  it  set  to  music.  And  this  was  the  way  Captain 
Elyot  had  read  Tennyson.  Did  Claudia  remember  it  ? 
He  looked  across  the  room  to  where,  at  his  sudden 
glance,  she  had  resumed  a  most  animated  conversation 
with  Lieutenant  Gibbs,  whose  dull  face  was  aglow  with 
pleasure.  It  struck  him  that  there  was  something  more 
than  gratified  vanity  in  the  lieutenant's  countenance. 
Certain  rumors  floating  about  the  post,  which  he  had 
not  heeded,  for  indifference,  recurred  to  him  now. 
These  might  account  for  the  reserve  in  Claudia's  man- 
ner. And  did  Gibbs  read  poetry  with  her  now  ?  And 
had  she  pencilled  the  lines  afresh  ?  He  cared  nothing 
for  Claudia :  with  the  exception  of  this  poetry,  there 
had  been,  at  least  to  his  mind,  nothing  approaching  sen- 
timent in  their  intercourse.  He  had  ceased  his  visits 
of  his  own  will,  and  simply  because  the  place  no  longer 
attracted  him ;  but  still  the  thought  that  perhaps 
Claudia  and  the  lieutenant  did  now  turn  the  pages  of 
the  little  book  together  brought  a  momentary  sensation 
not  entirely  pleasant. 

"  Was  ever  any  one  so  incomprehensible  ?  "  thought 
Miss  Laud,  pulling  at  her  needles  with  a  twitch  that 
sent  all  the  stitches  off.  She  had  addressed  some  play- 
ful remark  to  the  young  man  leaning  over  her  chair, 
who  had  been  all  attention  but  a  moment  before,  and  it 
hung,  as  it  were,  suspended  in  air.  A  sudden  fit  of 
abstraction  had  wiped  out  all  consciousness  of  her  words 
or  her  presence. 

"  Where  is  the  card-table  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bryce, 
rousing  from  a  surreptitious  nap  in  the  shadow  filling 


140  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

one  end  of  the  room.  "  Claudia  dear,  perhaps  the  gen- 
tlemen would  take  a  hand  at  whist.  Jinny  shall  bring 
more  lights." 

So  Claudia  set  out  the  card-table,  the  young  men 
hastening  to  her  assistance  with  more  alacrity  than  zeal. 
To  Lieutenant  Gibbs  the  tete-d-tete  with  Claudia  in  the 
dim  light  was  far  preferable.  Poor  Claudia !  who  talked 
at  random,  or  not  at  all,  while  her  jealous  ears  strove 
to  catch  every  word  uttered  at  the  other  end  of  the 
room. 

"  I  give  you  fair  warning  that  we  propose  to  win  all 
the  honors,"  said  Miss  Laud  in  a  lively  tone,  as  they 
gathered  about  the  table  at  last. 

Captain  Elyot  was  beside  her ;  and  she  glanced  from 
Claudia  to  him  as  she  spoke,  appropriating  him  to  her- 
self. They  had  arranged  it  between  them,  or  Kitty  had 
managed  to  bring  it  about,  thought  unhappy  Claudia, 
her  wrath  rising  against  her  friend.  But  the  lieuten- 
ant's dull  face  shone  as  he  hastened  to  take  the  place 
opposite  Miss  Bryce. 

"  There  should  be  a  stake  to  redeem  our  playing  of 
utter  stupidity,"  the  reckless  young  woman  ran  on. 
She  had  incurred  Claudia's  severe  displeasure,  and  was 
careless  of  what  came  now.  "What  a  pity  that  the 
tune  has  gone  by  when  a  lady's  hand  was  the  venture  !  " 
she  added,  with  a  mischievous  laugh  and  a  side-glance 
toward  her  friend. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  would  be  so  gracious  ?  "  Cap- 
tain Elyot  asked  gallantly,  with  an  open  glance  of 
admiration  toward  the  hand  with  which  Miss  Laud  was 
tossing  the  cards  into  the  pack. 

"  I  ?  Oh !  I  was  not  thinking  of  myself  at  all,"  she 
replied  boldly. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  141 

Lieutenant  Gibbs's  stupid  face  turned  angry  and  scar- 
let to  the  bristles  of  his  close-clipped  hair.  He  regarded 
Claudia  doubtfully,  the  scowl  deepening  on  his  face  as 
he  looked  from  Miss  Laud  to  Captain  Elyot.  Were 
these  two  plotting  against  him  ? 

'•'•Has  that  time  gone  by  ?  "  asked  Captain  Elyot,  with 
a  sudden  straight  look  into  Claudia's  crimsoning  face, 
and  a  dangerous  light  in  his  eyes.  A  headlong  spirit 
of  daring,  a  recklessness  as  to  consequences,  had  taken 
possession  of  him  at  the  suggestion  of  this  girl. 

"  What  nonsense,  Kitty  !  One  moment  —  I  have  for- 
gotten to  cut." 

Claudia  was  the  first  to  recover  herself,  though  her 
self-possession  had  nearly  slipped  out  of  her  grasp. 

That  moment  was  the  climax  of  the  evening.  The 
hour  which  followed  was  quiet  almost  to  dulness. 
Even  Miss  Laud's  high  spirits  were  subdued ;  and  the 
game  went  on  in  silence.  She  felt  that  she  had  gone 
too  far,  and  looked  forward  with  anxiety  to  Claudia's 
judgment  and  Claudia's  anger  when  the  guests  should 
have  departed.  In  truth,  she  was  not  a  little  fright- 
ened, and  blundered  over  her  game,  throwing  down  her 
cards  in  so  careless  a  manner  as  to  call  forth  a  deserved 
rebuke  from  Miss  Bryce,  which  only  made  matters 
worse,  since  Captain  Elyot  came  to  her  defence,  as  in 
duty  bound. 

A  more  uncomfortable  evening  among  four  people 
could  hardly  be  imagined ;  but  it  came  to  an  end  at 
last. 

"  Good-night !  "  said  Captain  Elyot  at  parting  from 
Claudia.  He  had  taken  her  hand  ;  he  retained  it  for  an 
instant,  since  he  fancied  Lieutenant  Gibbs  watched  him 
with  uneasiness. 


142  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

"  I  hope  you  will  allow  me  to  come  in  sometimes  as 
—  as  I  used  to." 

The  last  four  words  wrought  more  mischief  than  he 
dreamed  of.  They  roused  to  life  all  the  dead  hopes  in 
the  heart  of  the  girl  whose  hand  slipped  out  of  his  as  he 
uttered  them. 

"  You  know  you  were  always  welcome." 

Her  low  voice,  with  its  strange,  soft  tone,  screened  the 
reply  from  the  others. 

"  Are  you  going  home  ?  "  the  lieutenant  asked  Cap- 
tain Elyot  coldly,  as  the  door  closed  after  them. 

"  N-o,  I  believe  not,"  he  replied  with  suavity,  — 
that  cool  suavity  so  exasperating  in  a  man  who  has  had 
the  best  of  it  for  the  past  hour. 

"  Good-night,  then,"  the  lieutenant  said  in  a  still 
more  icy  tone ;  and  the  young  men  separated. 

Captain  Elyot  strolled  off  in  the  direction  of  the  sut- 
ler's quarters.  It  was  still  early,  the  night  was  fine  ;  and 
he  had  no  mind  to  sleep,  or  to  join  the  party  whom  he 
would  probably  find  at  cards  at  this  hour.  He  was  ill  at 
ease,  and  more  angry  at  himself  than  he  would  have  ac- 
knowledged, for  the  folly  of  the  past  hour.  Good  heavens, 
what  a  fool  he  must  be  !  He  had  nearly  committed  him- 
self to  Miss  Bryce  !  What  did  he  care  for  the  girl,  that 
he  should  have  dared  her  to  pick  up  his  reckless  words, 
which  might  have  been  interpreted  to  mean  any  thing, 
every  thing !  And,  as  though  this  were  not  enough,  he 
had  begged  her,  at  parting,  to  receive  him  upon  the  old 
intimate  terms !  He  had  been  a  fool  —  and  false,  which 
was  worse.  But  that  mischievous  girl  had  spurred  him 
on,  he  thought  angrily,  searching  about  for  some  one 
upon  whom  to  lay  the  blame  of  his  folly. 

There  was  no  light  behind  the  window  of  Blossom's 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  143 

parlor  as  he  passed  the  house.  But  he  had  not  in- 
tended to  call  at  this  hour,  though  he  remembered  that 
he  had  promised  to  look  in  when  he  left  Mrs.  Bryce's, 
if  it  was  not  too  late.  Had  she  expected  him  ?  His 
heart  had  been  stirred  by  all  manner  of  tormenting 
emotions ;  but  it  grew  still  as  a  summer  sea  at  a  vision 
of  Blossom's  pretty,  soft-tinted  face.  She  had  looked 
for  him,  without  doubt.  He  even  fancied  she  might 
have  shed  tears  —  such  a  child  as  she  was  —  over  his 
not  coming.  He  would  see  her  early  the  next  day,  and 
explain,  making  an  excuse  of  the  fine  weather,  which 
could  not  last  long,  to  take  her  out  skating  again.  And 
then  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  already  invited 
Miss  Laud  —  and,  he  began  to  suspect,  at  her  own  sug- 
gestion. He  turned  back  hastily  toward  his  own  quar- 
ters, bestowing  any  thing  but  blessings  upon  the  head 
of  that  officious  young  woman. 

As  for  Miss  Laud,  the  Fates  were  better  to  her  than 
her  fears.  That  one  moment  at  the  door,  when,  from 
a  late  instinct  of  caution,  she  had  engrossed  the  atten- 
tion of  Lieutenant  Gibbs  while  Captain  Elyot  made  his 
adieus  to  Claudia,  had  saved  her  from  all  she  dreaded. 

"  O  Kitty ! "  said  her  friend,  when  they  were  shut 
into  their  bedroom,  and  the  house  was  still,  "  did  you 
see  —  did  you  hear  him  when  he  asked  to  be  permit- 
tcil  to  come  again  *  as  he  used'  ?  What  did  he  mean? 
What  could  he  mean  ?  " 

"Did  he  say  that?" 

"  They  were  his  very  words." 

"  It  is  strange,  very  strange.  I  hardly  know  what  to 
think,""  Miss  Laud  responded. 

At  first  she  had  been  too  much  bewildered  by  the 
happy  turn  of  affairs  to  heed  what  her  friend  was  say- 


144  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

ing.  She  had  expected  the  most  violent  reproaches; 
and  Claudia  had  forgotten  her  altogether.  Now, 
brought  back  to  Miss  Bryce  and  her  affairs,  she  knew 
not  what  to  believe  of  this  young  man,  whose  ways 
were  so  unexpected,  who  had  flushed  at  the  mention  of 
one  girl  with  the  heat  of  a  lover,  and  would  have  staked 
his  chances  with  another  on  the  turn  of  a  card. 

"  It  can  mean  nothing  but  that  he  is  coming  back  to 
me,"  said  Claudia  in  a  dreamy,  unreal  voice,  too  happy 
to  notice  that  she  had  replied  to  her  own  query. 

"Yes,"  Miss  Laud  said  thoughtfully.  "Perhaps  it 
is  so.  It  seems  like  it ;  and  yet "  — 

"  Perhaps !  What  else  can  it  be  ?  You  can't  think, 
Kitty  "  —  She  stopped  short,  and  faced  her  friend,  the 
color  flying  to  her  hair. 

"  What  is  it,  Claudia  ?  "  Since  she  was  not  to  meet 
the  reproaches  she  had  looked  for,  Miss  Laud  was  quite 
cool  and  assured. 

"  You  can't  believe  that  he  asked  to  come  here  —  to 
see  you  ?  "  Claudia  burst  out  with  a  gasp. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no !  I  wish  he  had."  There  was  a  con- 
vincing frankness  in  Miss  Laud's  reply.  "He  never 
gave  me  a  thought,  I  can  assure  you,  though  he  was  so 
polite  as  to  ask  me  to  skate  with  him  to-morrow,  after 
I  had  twice  suggested  that  the  ice  could  hardly  remain 
many  days  in  its  present  delightful  condition,  and  that 
I  preferred  skating  to  any  thing  in  the  world.  No, 
indeed,  Claudia,  his  mind  was  not  upon  me.  I  was 
tempted  to  give  him  up  more  than  once.  There  is  no 
pleasure  in  doing  your  best  to  entertain  a  man  whose 
thoughts  are  elsewhere.  His  abstraction  at  times  was 
positively  embarrassing.  I  confess  I  don't  at  all  under- 
stand him;  but  he  was  not  thinking  of  me."  And 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  145 

Miss  Laud  moved  toward  the  glass,  and  began  to  take 
off  the  tinkling  jet  ornaments  which  had  sparkled  in 
Captain  Elyot's  eyes  with  so  little  effect  all  the  evening. 

"  You  are  a  good  girl,  Kitty.  Sometimes  I  think  it 
must  be  stupid  enough  for  you  here.  I  have  had  no 
heart  for  any  thing.  But  we'll  have  a  dance  before 
long,  or  a  skating-carnival,  with  masks  and  Chinese 
lanterns :  Mrs.  Stubbs  has  some,  I  know.  We'll  start 
about  it  to-morrow,  while  the  ice  is  in  good  condition. 
Or  would  you  rather  have  a  dance  indoors?  There 
are  your  pretty  dresses  you  have  never  had  a  chance  to 
wear." 

"  Oh,  no  I  the  carnival  by  all  means.  We  could  im- 
provise a  fancy  costume." 

"  And  dance  on  the  ice,  though  I  should  be  sure  to 
have  neuralgia  after  it.  We  can  do  both.  We  are 
sure  to  have  distinguished  visitors  later  in  the  season : 
we  always  do.  And  then  we'll  give  a  grand  ball !  You 
have  no  idea  of  our  resources,  or  how  gay  we  can  be." 
And  Claudia  went  to  bed  with  a  lighter  heart  than  she 
had  known  for  a  long  tune. 


146  HIS   INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

DID  HE  SAY  HE  SHOULD  COME  AGAIN? 

BUT  the  skating-carnival  was  doomed  never  to  take 
place.  Claudia's  zeal  waned  before  the  prepara- 
tions were  well  under  way.  After  hope,  despair.  In 
these  alternations  the  days  passed,  until  angry  jealousy 
took  the  place  of  both,  and  put  an  end  to  all  desire  to 
please  and  entertain  her  visitor;  for  Claudia  now 
looked  in  vain  for  the  renewal  of  the  old  intimacy  with 
Captain  Elyot,  who  did  not  avail  himself  of  the  permis- 
sion she  had  given  him  that  night  at  the  door.  He 
often  passed  the  house,  either  alone  or  with  companions ; 
sometimes  she  met  him  face  to  face.  He  went  in  and 
out  at  Mrs.  Stubbs's  (she  herself  had  seen  him)  ;  but  he 
did  not  come  to  her.  It  tormented  her  day  and  night. 
If  she  only  knew  the  cause  of  his  staying  away,  she 
would  be  satisfied,  she  said  to  herself.  Why  had  he  asked 
to  come,  if  he  had  not  desired  it  ?  What  could  it  be  that 
stood  in  the  way?  Not  that  she  went  about  sighing 
and  groaning,  and  wringing  her  hands.  Civilization 
has  turned  a  key  upon  expression.  No :  Claudia  lived 
her  usual  life,  to  outward  seeming,  even  partaking  of 
the  pleasures  that  came  in  her  way,  though  without  the 
heart  to  originate  any.  She  was  quiet,  —  perhaps  more 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  1-17 

so  than  in  former  times,  —  cool,  and,  if  the  truth  be 
told,  a  little  cross  in  the  sanctity  of  her  own  home, 
where  one  may  certainly  be  allowed  some  privileges  of 
expression.  But  Captain  Elyot  never  dreamed  of  the 
mischief  his  careless  words  had  wrought.  They  had 
passed  from  his  mind,  with  a  faint  regret  over  their 
having  been  uttered,  before  he  reached  his  quarters. 
If  any  thought  of  the  evening  lingered  long  with  him, 
it  was  over  Blossom,  who  had,  without  doubt,  expected 
him.  He  fancied  her  alone,  —  as  she  was  so  many 
hours  of  the  day,  —  listening  for  his  knock  at  the  door, 
turning  her  soft  brown  eyes  toward  it  at  every  step  out- 
side ;  for  notwithstanding  Lieutenant  Orme's  occasional 
notice  of  the  girl,  and  his  freaks  of  kindly  attention,  it 
was  to  Elyot  himself  that  she  looked  for  her  pleasures, 
and  the  relief  from  the  dulness  of  her  life  at  the  post. 
He  had  promised  to  teach  her  cribbage.  They  were  to 
have  made  a  beginning  this  night. 

But  Blossom  had  not  passed  so  forlorn  an  evening  as 
he  imagined.  It  is  well  for  people  to  learn  that  they 
are  not  the  hinges  upon  which  the  lives  of  others  turn ; 
and  the  young  man  would  have  received  a  shock  of  sur- 
prise, to  say  the  least,  had  he  passed  her  window  an 
hour  earlier  than  he  did.  The  clear  stillness  of  the 
winter  night  outside  was  shivered  by  the  sound  of 
young  voices  singing  within  the  parlor,  —  not  the  dole- 
ful ditties  which  Blossom  bestowed  upon  her  friends, 
but  gay  two-part  songs  and  merry  glees,  from  an  old 
book  Lieutenant  Orme  had  picked  up  elsewhere.  Some 
jolly  fellow,  ordered  into  the  wilderness,  had  left  it  be- 
hind. They  were  droll  songs  to  Blossom,  with  their 
"  Tirra-la-las,"  —  all  about  hunting  and  scenting,  and  ris- 
ing betimes,  and  full  of  the  blast  of  horns.  Blossom's 


148  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

little  fingers  skipped  and  hopped  about  the  keys,  —  no 
fox  in  the  chase  was  ever  more  bewildered.  But  Mrs. 
Stubbs,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room,  taking  her  ease 
after  the  perplexing  business  of  the  day,  thought  it  all 
wonderfully  fine,  and  rejoiced  over  the  girl's  happy 
laugh,  which  filled  every  pause,  and  took  the  place  of 
more  than  one  difficult  passage. 

"  You  left  early  last  night,"  Captain  Elyot  said  to 
Lieutenant  Orme,  the  next  morning  after  the  tea-party 
at  the  major's. 

"I  was  not  with  them  at  all,"  replied  Orme.  "I 
spent  the  evening  at  the  Stubbses." 

The  room  was  uncomfortably  warm ;  but  this  was  like 
a  blast  of  cool  air  in  Elyot's  face.  So  Blossom  had  not 
sighed  in  solitude,  and  the  young  man1  went  there  at 
his  own  pleasure  now  ! 

"There's  a  nice  little  girl  for  you,"  the  lieutenant 
went  on,  between  puffing  away  at  his  meerschaum,  and 
critically  eying  its  tint.  "No  sort  of  nonsense  about 
her.  I  asked  her  to  go  out  on  the  ice  this  afternoon." 

"Indeed!" 

"  Yes ;  but  the  old  woman  objected.  It  was  too  cold, 
she  said.  I  assured  her  that  there  was  every  prospect 
of  a  change  in  the  weather,  but  all  for  nothing.  She 
held  out  against  me,  and  I  confess  I  gave  it  up  rather 
than  rouse  her.  They  say  there  isn't  such  a  temper 
within  a  thousand  miles,  if  a  spark  happens  to  strike 
her.  I've  no  desire  to  be  that  spark ;  and,  besides,  she 
might  deny  me  the  house  if  I  proved  troublesome.  I'll 
try  her  again  the  first  mild  day.  Or  suppose  you  ask 
her,  old  fellow.  She'd  never  refuse  you.  You  might 
take  Miss  Blossom  out,  as  you  did  the  other  day,  and 
then  turn  her  over  to  me." 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  149 

" I  might"  the  captain  said,  with  a  grim  smile. 

"  That  would  be  the  surest  way,"  the  lieutenant  went 
on  meditatively.  "  Her  mother  would  never  say  no  to 
you.  Yes,  she's  a  good  little  girl !  " 

He  apostrophized  her  with  a  sigh,  raising  a  cloud  of 
incense  in  the  silence  his  companion  did  not  break. 

Captain  Elyot  did  not  forget  his  promise  to  Miss  Laud. 
The  afternoon  was  fine,  and  they  spent  a  long  hour  on 
the  ice.  Claudia  watched  them  set  out,  from  behind 
the  curtain  of  her  room,  where  she  was  hidden,  with  a 
beating  heart,  and  a  twinge  of  jealousy  she  could  not 
overcome. 

"  What  if  he  asks  for  you  when  he  calls  ?  " 

Miss  Laud  was  determined  to  steer  clear  of  all 
dangers,  after  her  narrow  escape  the  night  before. 

"  You  had  better  be  ready,  so  that  he  need  not  wait," 
Claudia  had  replied  calmly.  "  Of  course,  if  he  asks 
for  me,  I  shall  see  him.  But  in  that  case  he  might  feel 
obliged  to  invite  me  to  go  with  you." 

"  Why,  then  you  would." 

"  Then  I  would  not,"  said  Claudia,  with  some  heat. 
"  Unless  —  unless  there  should  be  something  very  par- 
ticular in  his  manner,"  she  added  slowly,  upon  second- 
thought. 

But  there  was  nothing  at  all  particular  in  his  manner 
when  he  appeared,  unless  it  was  the  absence  of  all  in- 
terest in  Claudia.  He  did,  indeed,  ask  if  she  were  well, 
and  hoped  they  should  see  her  on  the  ice,  in  a  coldly 
polite  tone  which  struck  a  chill  to  the  girl's  heart  even 
through  tin-  door,  against  which  she  had  placed  her  ear. 

Why  did  not  Kitty  reply?  Why  did  she  not  call 
IKT'.'  .she  thought,  with  ;i  burst  of  (ears,  throwing  her- 
self upon  the  heil.  But  Miss  Laud  had  no  opportunity 


150  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

to  reply.  He  had  taken  her  skates  from  her  hand  with 
a  "  by  your  leave,"  and  hastened  her  away,  for  all  the 
world,  as  Miss  Laud  said  to  herself,  as  though  he  dreaded 
Claudia  to  appear. 

But  Miss  Bryce  did  not  spend  the  afternoon  in  tears. 
There  was  still  a  shred  of  hope  left  to  her. 

"  Be  sure  that  you  ask  him  to  come  in  when  you  re- 
turn," she  had  said  to  her  friend.  "  You  may  invite 
him  to  tea  if  you  choose." 

It  was  only  the  night  before  that  he  had  drunk  tea 
with  them ;  but  his  visits  had  once  been  almost  daily, 
and  why  should  they  not  be  so  again  ?  He  had  asked  to 
come  as  he  used  to  do.  She  wiped  away  her  tears, 
arranged  her  dress,  and  was  behind  the  shabby  little 
window,  watching  for  their  return,  before  the  afternoon 
had  half  passed  away.  It  was  almost  dark  when  they 
appeared,  Captain  Elyot  swinging  Miss  Laud's  skates 
and  his  own,  and  the  latter  looking  up  into  his  face,  as 
they  came  on  over  the  snow  in  the  gray  light,  in  a 
saucy,  bewitching  way  not  pleasant  for  another  woman 
to  see,  if  that  other  woman  chanced  to  feel  a  personal 
interest  in  the  smiles  of  the  young  man. 

They  stood  a  moment,  these  two,  at  the  door;  but 
Miss  Bryce  had  retreated  from  the  window.  She  did 
not  feel  that  she  could  compose  her  countenance  to 
meet  Captain  Elyot's  eye.  She  listened  to  their  voices, 
however ;  for  their  conversation  was  prolonged  for  some 
time  after  they  had  gained  the  door.  A  very  gay  time 
Kitty  was  having,  and  without  a  thought  of  her! 
Claudia  could  hardly  keep  back  the  tears  of  vexation 
while  she  hearkened  every  moment  for  the  door  to 
open.  It  did  open  after  a  time,  —  a  long  time  it  seemed 
to  her;  but  she  could  distinctly  hear  the  retreating 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  151 

step  of  the  young  man.  So  he  was  not  coming  in,  after 
all!  And  with  the  pang  of  disappointment,  sharp  as 
the  stab  of  a  knife,  her  friend  entered,  happy  and  most 
inappropriately  gay  and  rosy. 

"  Claudia,  I  wish  you  had  come  out :  we  have  had  a 
delightful  time." 

"  So  I  should  judge,  from  the  sound  of  your  voice  at 
the  door,"  Claudia  replied  stiffly.  "  I  only  hope  you 
have  not  caught  cold  standing  so  long  outside." 

And  Miss  Bryce  bent  over  the  work  in  her  hand  as 
though  life  were  too  short  for  its  completion. 

"  Don't  be  cross,  dear ; "  and  Miss  Laud  laid  her  rosy 
face  against  Claudia's  pale  cheek.  "  How  could  I  help 
enjoying  myself?  Everybody  was  out,  — and  asked  for 
you,"  she  added  quickly.  Miss  Bryce  moved  her  face 
away.  "And  indeed  I  did  invite  him  in;  but  he  re- 
fused. He  had  promised  to  meet  some  one.  It  was 
about  some  affairs  at  the  mess-room  I  don't  understand ; 
but  I  heard  him  make  the  engagement  with  Captain 
Luttrell  on  the  ice.  So  you  see,  dear,  it  was  no  flimsy 
pretext  to  get  off.  But  why  were  you  not  at  the 
window?  I  kept  him  a  moment,  thinking  you  would 
appear." 

"  How  could  I  stand  in  the  window,  as  though  I  were 
watching  for  you  and  him  ?  "  Claudia  said,  relenting 
a  little. 

She  hesitated,  blushing  faintly. 

"  And  did  he  say  any  thing,  Kitty  ?  Did  he  ask  if 
I  were  coming  out  ?  " 

"  lie  asked  that  before  we  left  the  house,"  Miss  Laud 
replied. 

l>ut  there  was  little  comfort  in  this  assurance,  since 
Cluudia  had  overheard  the  inquiry. 


152  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

"  And  there  really  was  no  opportunity,"  Miss  Laud 
went  on  hastily  as  she  disrobed.  "  We  were  never  alone 
a  moment." 

"  But  there  was  the  walk  home.  I  am  sure  you  came 
on  slowly  enough  to  have  talked  over  every  thing." 

So  Claudia  had  been  at  the  window  ! 

"  Yes ;  and  he  gave  me  a  most  amusing  account  of 
a  skating  experience  "  — 

But  Miss  Bryce  did  not  desire  its  recapitulation  at 
this  moment. 

"  I  know,  — with  the  Slades,"  she  said.  "  I  was  there 
myself." 

But  she  did  not  so  much  as  smile  at  the  remembrance: 
she  could  hardly  have  patience  with  the  levity  of  her 
friend.  It  was  so  exaggerated  as  to  seem  almost  as 
though  it  were  assumed.  There  must  be  something 
more,  something  held  back. 

"  And  was  the  sutler's  daughter  out  to-day?" 

"  No ;  but  she  sat  in  the  window  as  we  passed  just 
now,  Claudia ;  and  she  has  the  sweetest  face  "  — 

"  Did  he  see  her  ?  " 

Claudia  forgot  her  work  for  a  moment. 

"To  be  sure,  he  did,  my  dear,  having  the  use  of 
his  eyes !  He  took  off  his  hat  as  though  she  had  been 
a  duchess.  I  really  can't  make  him  out.  But  I  man- 
aged to  refer  to  his  visit  here  last  evening,  before  he 
left  me." 

It  was  coming  at  last.  This  was  what  Claudia  had 
waited  for.  She  worked  away  steadily ;  but  her  face  be- 
trayed her,  while  Miss  Laud  ran  on  as  she  took  off  her 
wraps,  — 

" '  I'm  afraid  you  found  our  game  last  night  rather 
slow,'  said  I.  '  Rumor  credits  you  gentlemen  with  play- 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  153 

ing  so  high,  that  a  quiet  hand  at  whist  with  a  couple 
of  bunglers  like  Claudia  and  me  must  be  stupid 
enough.' 

" '  Rumor  is  a  liar,'  he  answered  quite  savagely  (the 
young  man  is  certainly  not  devoid  of  spirit).  '  I  can 
at  least  deny  the  story  for  myself.' 

"  *  Then,  you  didn't  find  it  utterly  dull  ?  We  were 
afraid  you  might,'  said  I. 

" '  By  no  means,'  he  replied  emphatically.  '  I  never 
passed  an  evening  farther  removed  from  dulness.'  " 

"  Did  he,  Kitty  ?    Did  he  really  say  that  ?  " 

" '  Then,  perhaps  you  will  repeat  it,'  said  I.  '  I'll 
promise  you  a  better  partner  another  time.' " 

Claudia  waited  eagerly  for  what  was  to  come.  But 
here  Miss  Laud's  memory  failed  her. 

"  He  thanked  me,  I  know,  and  added  something  of 
having  spent  many  pleasant  evenings  here." 

"  But  did  he  say  he  should  come  again  ?  You  must 
remember,  Kitty,  if  you  think  a  moment." 

"  I  can't  say ;  I  really  don't  know ;  and  yet  the  im- 
pression I  received  was  that  he  would  come." 

And  with  this  Claudia  was  obliged  to  content  her- 
self. 

But  days  passed  on,  and  he  did  not  appear,  as  was 
said  at  the  beginning  of  the  chapter.  A  heavy  rain  set 
in,  flooding  the  ice,  and  rendering  all  out-of-door  recrea- 
tion impossible.  Even  visiting  was  for  a  time  out  of 
the  question  ;  and  Miss  Laud  yawned  and  sighed  over 
the  dreary  prospect  from  the  window,  and  wished  her- 
self back  in  the  States  again. 

Claudia  watched  and  fretted  in  secret.  Why  did  ho 
not  come  ?  Others  of  the  officers  dropped  in,  in  spite 
of  the  storm.  Men  for  whom  she  cared  nothing  braved 


154  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

wind  and  flood  to  reach  them.  TTc  only  staid  away. 
Sometimes  she  doubted  her  friend.  Was  Kitty  deceiv- 
ing her  ?  She  appeared  true,  and  ready  with  sympathy ; 
but  to  Claudia's  sick  fancy  every  face  was  double. 

It  was  more  than  a  week  before  the  rain  ceased,  and 
the  heaviness  hanging  over  the  little  company  at  the 
fort  rolled  away  with  the  clouds.  If  the  cold  would 
but  strengthen  now,  the  skating  would  be  finer  than 
ever. 

Miss  Bryce,  entering  the  parlor  suddenly  one  after- 
noon, discovered  her  friend  consulting  the  thermometer. 
At  Claudia's  appearance  Miss  Laud  reddened. 

"It  is  growing  colder,"  she  said,  with  evident  em- 
barrassment, walking  away  from  the  window. 

The  cold  increased  throughout  the  night.  By  the 
second  day  the  ice  was  pronounced  safe,  and  every  one 
prepared  to  enjoy  it  after  the  enforced  rest.  In  default 
of  a  more  desirable  attendant,  Claudia  had  accepted 
Lieutenant  Gibbs  as  an  escort. 

"  But  I  cannot  think  of  leaving  you  alone  all  the 
afternoon,"  she  said  as  she  settled  her  hat  in  its  place. 
"I'll  only  go  out  for  half  an  hour.  I  thought  Captain 
Welles  asked  you  last  night.  Why  didn't  you  accept  ? 
so  fond  of  skating  as  you  are,  too.  I  could  not  under- 
stand your  refusal." 

Miss  Laud's  back  was  turned  to  her  friend.  She  did 
not  reply  at  once. 

"  I  refused  him,"  she  said  presently,  without  turning 
her  head,  "  because  —  I  am  expecting  Captain  Elyot  to 
come  for  me,  Claudia." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  When  did  you  see  him  to 
make  such  an  appointment  ?  " 

Claudia's  voice  was  sharp,  and  near  to  breaking.  But 
now  Miss  Laud  faced  her  friend. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  155 

"Not  since  we  went  skating  together,  more  than  a 
week  ago.  You  may  believe  me,  Claudia,  I  have  never 
seen  him  since.  But  he  engaged  to  take  me  out  again 
the  first  fine  day.  You  remember  it  looked  like  a  storm 
that  night." 

"  And  you  knew  it  all  the  time,  and  kept  it  back  !  I 
would  never  have  thought  it  of  you,  Kitty.  I  would 
never  have  believed  you  to  be  so  sly." 

There  was  a  sudden  quaver  in  Claudia's  voice,  and 
she  burst  into  tears. 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  should  call  me  sly,"  Miss 
Laud  said,  with  some  spirit.  "  I  would  have  told  you 
that  night,  but  I  knew  you  would  be  angry.  You  were 
vexed  as  it  was,  because  I  didn't  bring  him  in.  I  asked 
him  :  what  could  I  do  more  ?  And  it's  little  enough 
attention  I  have  received  from  your  friends.  You  need 
not  begrudge  me  this,  Claudia.  I  may  as  well  con- 
fess that  it  isn't  at  all  as  I  supposed  it  would  be,  or 
what  you  led  me  to  expect  from  your  letters.  And  my 
new  dresses  not  so  much  as  taken  out  of  my  trunks  ! 
I  might "  — 

But  there  came  a  resounding  rap  at  the  door;  and 
Jinny's  head  was  thrust  into  the  room,  putting  an  end 
to  Miss  Laud's  words,  as  well  as  checking  Claudia's 
tears.  Lieutenant  Gibbs  was  in  the  parlor. 

"  You  will  never  go  out.  Your  eyes  are  frightfully 
red,"  said  Miss  Laud  in  a  more  composed  tone. 

The  walls  were  thin :  what  might  he  not  have  over- 
heard. 

But  Claudia  disdained  reply.  She  bathed  her  eyes, 
and  smoothed  her  hair  (ruffled  by  the  pillows,  where  she 
had  taken  refuge),  re-adjusted  her  hat,  and  went.  At 
hist  she  began  to  feel  something  of  a  roused  spirit.  She 


156  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

had  no  one  to  depend  upon  but  herself.  She  saw 
clearly  now  that  she  must  gather  her  strength,  and  fight 
as  best  she  could  single-handed.  What  were  red  eyes 
in  such  an  emergency ! 

When  Captain  Elyot  called  for  Miss  Laud  (a  duty 
he  had  nearly  forgotten),  he  found  her  equipped,  and 
awaiting  him.  He  had  been  entrapped  into  asking  her 
again,  —  if  one  can  be  said  to  be  caught  who  walks 
open-eyed  into  the  snare.  Her  brusque,  odd  ways  amused 
him.  Her  saucy  speech  could  not  wound:  it  could 
sting,  indeed ;  but  as  a  boy  he  had  learned  to  grasp  a 
nettle  boldly.  She  still  persisted  in  bringing  up  Blos- 
som's name ;  but,  forewarned  now,  he  made  brief  reply, 
or  none  at  all,  to  her  suggestions  and  innuendoes. 

The  river  was  crowded  with  skaters.  Even  Mrs. 
Bryce  had  been  tempted  to  try  her  clumsy  skill ;  and 
Lieutenant  Orme  was  happy  in  having  Blossom  under 
his  care.  Mrs.  Stubbs  had  been  cajoled  into  an  unwill- 
ing consent  at  last. 

Claudia  and  her  attendant  were  already  upon  the  ice 
when  Miss  Laud  and  Captain  Elyot  reached  it,  —  not 
the  angry,  tearful  Claudia  of  an  hour  before,  but  Miss 
Bryce  at  her  best,  well-dressed,  graceful,  almost  hand- 
some, and  the  observed  of  all. 

"  A  charming  day,  certainly,"  she  replied  to  Captain 
Elyot'a  polite  greeting,  uttering  the  words  with  a  smile. 

Thejfcwere  almost  like  the  smile  and  the  words  she 
had  bestowed  upon  him  months  before,  —  perhaps  not 
exactly  the  same,  but  at  least  equal  to  a  photograph  of 
the  original.  For  the  amount  of  will  and  energy  which 
the  weakest  woman  will  develop  to  hide  her  heart  is 
beyond  wonder  and  praise.  It  is  not  deceit.  It  is  a 
natural  growth,  like  porcupine-quills,  and  intended  for 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  157 

the  same  purpose  of  defence.  Captain  Elyot,  who 
remembered  uncomfortably  the  manner  in  which  he 
had  parted  from  Miss  Bryce  at  her  own  door,  and 
had  avoided  her  since,  was  set  at  ease  at  last.  His 
vanity  had  deceived  him,  he  thought  to  himself:  the 
whole  unpleasant  evening  had  been  but  an  echo  of 
his  spirit,  which  was  out  of  tune.  Claudia's  old 
charming  manner  had  returned,  and  he  wished  Gibbs 
success  with  all  his  heart.  Indeed,  he  was  a  good  deal 
befogged  at  this  time,  and  hardly  knew  head-lands 
from  clouds.  But  the  four  formed  a  small  circle  for 
a  moment ;  and  nothing  could  be  more  amiable,  or 
even  affectionate,  than  the  manner  of  the  two  young 
ladies.  He  little  imagined  that  they  had  mentally 
vowed  never  to  speak  to  each  other  again  less  than  sixty 
minutes  before,  and  that  he  had  been  the  occasion  of  the 
quarrel ! 

He  devoted  himself  to  Miss  Laud,  as  in  politeness 
bound;  but  his  eyes  would  sometimes  follow  a  slight 
figure  in  a  fur-lined  jacket  shooting  past,  with  Lieu- 
tenant Orme's  long  legs  beside  it.  Other  parties  were 
dashing  by  with  alarming  velocity.  Each  time  Blossom 
and  her  companion  seemed  to  increase  their  speed.  It 
was  reckless  and  unsafe:  the  careless  boy  was  not  to 
be  trusted  with  such  a  charge,  he  thought,  replying 
absently  to  his  companion,  and  tempted  to  interfere  at 
the  risk  of  angering  the  lieutenant.  While  he  hesitated, 
the  calamity  he  had  foreseen  took  place.  There  was 
an  exclamation  like  a  cry.  The  crowd  pressed  forward 
to  one  spot. 

"  Stand  back !  Stand  back !  "  shouted  an  authorita- 
tive voice.  "  Don't  you  see  that  the  ice  is  cracking 
under  your  weight !  " 


158  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

It  was  the  major,  who  had  just  arrived. 

The  circle  widened  suddenly,  and  broke.  As  it 
parted,  Elyot  saw  a  little  motionless  form,  a  dark  heap, 
about  which  the  others  had  gathered.  There  had  been  a 
collision  between  the  mad  racers,  and  Blossom  had  gone 
down.  Before  any  one  could  raise  her,  he  had  dashed 
into  the  circle,  lifted  her  in  his  arms,  and  was  skating 
toward  the  shore,  ignoring  Lieutenant  Orme,  who,  upon 
his  knees  beside  her,  was  tugging  wildly  at  the  straps 
of  his  skates.  The  boy  followed  him  as  speedily  as  pos- 
sible, as  did  most  of  the  company ;  for  she  lay  like  one 
dead  in  the  young  man's  arms.  The  afternoon's  sport 
was  at  an  end. 

"  Will  you  oblige  me  by  apologizing  to  Miss  Laud, 
and,  taking  her  home,"  Captain  Elyot  said  coldly  to  the 
young  lieutenant,  who  came  up  as  the  former  was  hav- 
ing his  skates  removed. 

The  poor  lieutenant,  terrified  and  repentant,  went  off 
without  a  word  to  do  his  bidding,  while  Captain 
Elyot  carried  Blossom  to  her  mother.  Any  one  of  the 
women  who  had  regarded  her  so  superciliously  a  mo- 
ment before  would  have  gladly  done  something  for 
the  poor  girl  now.  Some  one  offered  to  run  on  and 
prepare  Mrs.  Stubbs.  But  the  dash  over  the  ice  had 
begun  to  revive  her  already ;  and,  by  the  time  she  was 
laid  upon  the  fine  sofa  in  her  own  parlor,  Blossom  had 
opened  her  eyes.  Half  the  company  who  had  witnessed 
this  accident  had  crowded  into  the  room,  or  hung  about 
the  open  door. 

"What  is  it?"  Blossom  cried  in  an  excited  tone, 
waking  to  find  all  these  strange  faces  about  her. 

"  Nothing  at  all,  child.  Don't  you  be  fretted,"  said 
her  mother,  with  a  strange  quaver  in  her  voice. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  159 

"  You  fell  on  the  ice.  They  came  to  see  if  you  were 
hurt,"  Captain  Elyot  explained. 

"That  was  kind,"  said  the  child,  with  a  sweet,  faint 
smile.  Forgiving  her  enemies  with  the  words,  though 
quite  unconscious  that  she  had  any,  and  too  weak  to  try 
to  understand  why  the  tears  came  to  the  eyes  of  the 
chaplain's  wife,  or  why  the  showy  young  lady  who  had 
pressed  forward  to  Captain  Elyot's  side  should  turn 
away  her  head. 

"Let  me  stay  with  you,  Mrs.  Stubbs,"  said  Mrs. 
Brown,  the  chaplain's  wife.  "  I  can  sit  by  her  if  you 
are  called  away." 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am  ;  but  I  reckon  I  can  do  all  that 
is  necessary,"  Mrs.  Stubbs  replied  in  a  hard  tone. 

The  grace  of  forgiveness  was  not  hers,  and  she  re- 
membered that  this  woman  had  slighted  Blossom. 
They  stole  away  one  after  another.  The  major,  even, 
had  pressed  into  the  room  to  see  how  it  fared  with  the 
child,  though  neither  Mrs.  Bryce  nor  Claudia  had  fol- 
lowed. 

"  You'll  be  quite  well  in  the  morning,"  he  said  kindly, 
patting  her  brown  curls. 

"  I  am  quite  well  now,"  Blossom  replied.  "  I  think  I 
could  sit  up." 

But  Mrs.  Stubbs  gathered  her  in  her  strong  arms,  and 
bore  her  off  to  her  bed. 


160  HIS   INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"THO'    FATHER    AN'     MITHER     AN'     A'     SHOULD     GAE 

MAD." 

inARLY  in  the  evening  Lieutenant  Orme  crept 
J-^  around  to  the  store.  He  looked  with  longing 
eyes  toward  the  parlor-door  ;  but  it  was  not  to  open  for 
him. 

"  How  is  Miss  Blossom  ?  "  he  ventured  to  ask  of  Mrs. 
Stubbs,  who  stood  like  a  grim  image  of  justice  behind 
the  scales. 

Thank  God !  she  was  not  dead,  or  even  desperately 
ill,  or  her  mother  would  not  be  here. 

"  Blossom  ?  "  repeated  Mrs.  Stubbs  in  an  unpleasant 
voice.  "  She's  but  poorly,  sir."  And  she  poured  out 
the  coffee  she  had  been  weighing. 

A  chill  ran  through  all  his  bones. 

"  It  was  my  fault,  I  know ;  but  you  see  "  — 

The  boy  would  have  attempted  to  excuse  himself  to 
her,  though  no  excuse  would  have  set  him  right  in 
his  own  eyes ;  but  Mrs.  Stubbs,  tying  up  the  package, 
and  giving  it  into  the  hands  of  the  purchaser,  paid  no 
further  attention  to  him. 

"  Is  there  nothing  more  ?  Thank  you,"  as  she  handed 
back  the  change ;  for  the  sutler's  wife  was  ceremoni- 
ously polite  within  the  bounds  of  her  affairs  at  the  store. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  161 

"Could  I  do  any  thing?  "  asked  the  lieutenant  in  an 
awed  voice,  pressing  into  notice  again. 

What  if  she  were  to  die,  after  all ! 

"  Nothing  that  I  think  of  now,"  Mrs.  Stubbs  replied 
coldly,  moving  off,  and  intrenching  herself  behind  a 
great  ledger,  which  gave  her  the  appearance  of  having 
stepped  around  a  corner,  and  effectually  ended  the  con- 
ference. 

The  boy  stole  away,  heavy-hearted  and  full  of  fore- 
bodings. If  she  were  to  die !  He  sat  down  upon 
the  steps  outside  for  a  moment :  he  was  too  miserable 
to  go  back  to  his  quarters.  Even  Captain  Elyot  had 
blamed  him  :  he  felt  it,  though  they  had  not  met  since 
they  parted  on  the  ice.  And  did  Blossom  also  reproach 
him  ?  Or  (and  he  grew  sick  at  heart  over  the  vision 
his  fancy  called  up)  did  she  lie  still  and  white,  with 
no  thought  of  him  at  all,  too  ill  for  recollection  ?  He 
could  not  bear  the  suspense,  or  the  weight  of  his  fears. 
He  would  seek  Captain  Elyot,  and  beg  of  him  to  go  and 
face  Mrs.  Stubbs,  and  learn  the  truth,  even  if  by  so 
doing  he  received  the  full  measure  of  his  friend's  anger 
for  his  carelessness. 

A  half  an  hour  later,  Captain  Elyot  strolled  into  the 
store. 

"And  how  is  Miss  Blossom  now?"  he  inquired 
cheerfully.  "  None  the  worse  for  her  fall,  I  hope." 

"  You  may  just  step  in  an'  see  for  yourself,  Cap'n 
Elyot.  She's  a  bit  weak  an'  trembly  yet;  but  you'll 
find  her  in  the  parlor.  She  would  be  brought  out.  She 
declared  she  could  walk  ;  but  '  Not  a  foot  do  you  put  to 
tlu-  floor  this  night,' said  I.  The  surgeon  says  there 
are  no  bones  broke;  but  he's  a  fool  at  the  best,  as 
every  one  knows.  It  is  I  that  deserve  a  broken  back, 


162  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

for  being  talked  into  trusting  her  to  that  rattle- 
headed "  — 

"  Don't  be  hard  on  Orme.  The  boy  is  frightened 
enough  at  what  has  happened.  He'll  be  more  careful 
another  time ;  and,  really,  it  was  not  entirely  his  fault. 
I  saw  it  all,  and  "  — 

"  Them  can  risk  their  lives  as  choose ;  but  it'll  be 
neither  me  nor  mine,"  said  Mrs.  Stubbs  in  a  tone 
beyond  gainsaying. 

She  shut  up  her  book,  with  the  air  of  having  the 
lieutenant's  head  between  the  covers,  and  descended 
from  her  high  seat. 

"  But  you  may  go  on,  Cap'n  Elyot :  I'll  follow  you 
presently." 

And  she  proceeded  to  make  every  thing  tidy  and  fast 
for  the  night,  while  the  captain,  after  a  tap,  and  a  pause 
at  the  parlor-door,  passed  on  into  the  room  where  he 
was  to  find  Blossom.  A  pale,  soft  light  shone  through 
it  from  a  great  lamp  on  the  table  beside  the  sofa ;  and 
just  rising  from  the  sofa,  in  some  kind  of  a  loose  white 
gown,  was  Blossom  herself.  Was  it  the  pale  yellow 
light,  or  the  gown,  that  made  her  so  white  ? 

"  Don't  let  me  disturb  you :  I  am  sure  you  had  better 
lie  down,"  Captain  Elyot  said,  tossing  his  hat  upon  the 
floor,  and  drawing  a  chair  close  to  her  side.  "  I  have 
come  from  Lieutenant  Orme,  which  must  excuse  a  rather 
late  call.  The  poor  fellow  dared  not  come  himself.  I 
left  him  tearing  his  hair  over  his  carelessness." 

"  Oh  !  he  need  not  do  that,"  Blossom  said  quickly. 
"  It  was  my  own  fault ;  and,  indeed,  there  is  no  harm 
done.  I  shall  be  up  to-morrow." 

"  He  heard  a  most  alarming  account  of  you  at  the 
store." 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  163 

"  I  suppose  he  didn't  see  mother." 

And  Captain  Elyot  could  not  contradict  her.  There 
fell  a  moment's  silence  between  the  two,  with  the  hush 
which  comes  at  nightfall,  —  a  hush  of  the  spirit  as  well 
as  of  all  confused  and  laborious  sounds  which  fill  the 
working-hours. 

Blossom  lay  back  in  one  corner  of  the  flowered  sofa, 
her  cheek  against  its  arm,  one  hand,  with  its  pink-tipped 
fingers,  just  showing  below  the  loose  sleeve  of  her  gown 
as  it  lay  on  her  knee.  How  frail  and  sweet  to  look  at 
she  was  this  night !  It  came  to  him  like  a  revelation, 
that  life  would  hold  nothing  beautiful  or  dear  to  him  if 
those  eyes,  languidly  open  now,  should  close  forever,  — 
what  would  it  be  to  him  if  they  had  never  opened 
again !  He  bent,  with  a  sudden  impulse,  and  kissed 
her  hand. 

"  You  gave  me  an  awful  fright,"  he  said  in  a  hoarse 
voice,  and  with  the  beating  of  his  heart  sounding  in  his 
ears. 

There  was  a  hand  on  the  door.  It  opened,  and  Mrs. 
Stubbs  appeared.  Captain  Elyot  had  risen  to  his  feet. 
His  color  was  heightened ;  but  he  stood  erect  and  un- 
abashed. 

"  Are  you  going,  Cap'n  Elyot  ?  "  Mrs.  Stubbs  asked, 
suspecting  nothing. 

44  Yes.  Miss  Blossom  is  tired.  I  shall  look  in  in  the 
morning;"  and  he  began  to  search  about  for  his  hat. 
-I  am  glad  to  have  so  good  a  report  to  carry  back  to 
Orme.  The  poor  boy  is  inclined  to  take  more  blame 
than  fairly  belongs  to  him." 

44  Tell  him  I  am  not  hurt  at  all.  He  must  come  and 
Bee  me  to-morrow,"  said  Blossom  faintly  from  the  sofa. 

"  Y<>u  must  not  !><•  tiring  yourself  with  too  many 
\isit»>is."  Mis.  Stubbs  interposed. 


164  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

Evidently  the  lieutenant  was  in  disgrace  with  the 
sutler's  widow. 

"  For  one  little  moment,"  pleaded  Blossom. 

But  her  mother  made  no  reply.  She  was  stirring  the 
fire  noisily,  and  setting  the  room  in  order.  All  the 
peaceful  stillness  which  had  hung  over  the  place  a 
moment  before  now  flew  up  the  chimney  and  away.  It 
was  not  a  paradise  any  longer,  in  which,  as  the  young 
man  had  thought,  one  could  linger  forever.  The  bustle 
of  every-day  life  had  come  back.  It  was  only  when  he 
looked  at  Blossom,  pale  and  sweet  and  languid  in  her 
white  gown,  with  her  cheek  pressing  the  flaring  roses, 
that  the  dream  remained. 

He  had  no  excuse  to  linger ;  but  he  could  not  go  with- 
out a  word  from  her.  Would  she  be  angry  with  him 
for  his  presumption  ?  Dear  child !  would  she  know 
that  it  was  presuming  ?  Somebody  ought  to  take  care 
of  her.  Oh  !  if — 

"At  least  I  may  tell  the  lieutenant  you  forgive 
him  ?  "  he  said  interrogatively,  addressing  Blossom,  and 
stepping  directly  before  the  gaudy  sofa. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  forgive,"  she  answered  in  a  low 
voice,  while  the  color  flew  over  her  cheeks. 

She  did  not  lift  her  eyes,  or  put  out  her  hand 
when  he  bade  her  good-night.  And  had  she  forgiven 
him  also  ?  He  could  not  tell,  he  said  to  himself.  He 
would  see  her  in  the  morning.  And  he  found  himself 
humming  a  gay  song  —  he  who  had  no  voice  for  singing 
—  as  he  strode  across  the  parade-ground  to  his  quarters, 
where  Orme  was  waiting  for  him. 

It  had  been  a  long  half-hour  to  the  boy,  whose  face 
was  fairly  haggard  with  dread. 

"  Will  she  die  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  husky  voice. 


HTS   INHERITANCE.  165 

"  Halloo,  Orme !  not  tired  of  waiting  ?  Have  a  pipe, 
man.  Why  didn't  you  help  yourself?  Die?  Who 
could  have  told  you  such  a  story?  Why,  if  you  had 
seen  her  just  now  "  — 

"  And  why  didn't  I  see  her  ?  It  was  the  old  woman 
who  made  me  believe  I  had  nearly  killed  her." 

The  young  lieutenant's  voice  broke.  The  strain  of 
anxiety  had  made  him  as  weak  as  a  girl. 

"  But  I  understand  it  all,"  he  went  on.  "  I've  seen 
it  coming  for  a  long  while.  She's  only  too  glad  of  an 
excuse  to  shut  the  door  against  me.  They  say  the 
truth  when  they  declare  she  don't  want  me  there,  but 
that  you  "  — 

"What  is  that?" 

The  blood  flew  into  Captain  Elyot's  face  :  the  stem  of 
the  pipe  snapped  between  his  teeth.  Had  the  gossip 
of  the  garrison  fastened  on  him  ? 

"  What  do  they  say  ?  "  he  repeated.  "  I'll  take  it  all, 
Orme." 

"  I  talk  like  a  fool ;  but  it's  true  all  the  same,"  Lieu- 
tenant Orme  replied.  "  They  say  the  old  woman  would 
rather  see  you  with  her  daughter  than  me.  That's  the 
whole  of  it,  Elyot,  on  my  honor.  Gossip,  you  know,  but 
the  Lord's  truth.  Of  course  she'd  rather  you  went  there 
than  I;  and  so  would  Blossom.  That's  the  worst  of 
it,"  the  boy  added,  with  a  choke  in  his  voice,  dropping 
his  face  into  his  hands. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,  boy  "  — 

Captain  Elyot's  voice  was  hoarse.  He  wheeled  sud- 
denly round  in  his  chair,  tossed  his  pipe  into  the  fire, 
and  regarded  his  friend. 

"  How  could  I  help  it?  "  said  the  lieutenant.  " Such 
a  dear  little  girl,  and  seeing  her  day  after  day !  I've 
i  there  no  end  of  times  when  you  didn't  know  it." 


166  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so." 

"  And  she  always  seemed  glad  to  see  me,  and  all  that, 
you  know,  till  sometimes  I've  thought " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  Captain  Elyot  said  brusquely. 

Had  he  not  been  going  through  this  same  course  of 
reasoning  to-night  ? 

"  But  have  you  said  any  thing  of  this  to  her  ?  You 
haven't  been  turning  her  head,  Orme  ?  " 

"What  do  you  mean?  I'd  ask  her  to  marry  me 
to-morrow  if  I  dared.  But  it's  no  use." 

And  the  lieutenant  fell  back  into  despair  again. 

"  I  tell  you,  Elyot,  it  —  it  would  be  different  if  it 
were  you,"  blurted  out  the  boy,  with  something  very 
like  a  sob. 

"Speak  of  yourself,  man,"  said  Captain  Elyot 'coldly. 
"  And  that's  not  the  way  to  be  talking  about  any 
woman.  Consider  your  own  chances.  Beyond  that,  it's 
no  concern  of  yours." 

"  But  I  am  thinking  of  myself,"  persisted  the  lieuten- 
ant. "  Of  course  I  know  it  is  nothing  to  you,  and  I 
wouldn't  have  said  that  to  any  one  else.  But  you  have 
stood  by  me  like  —  like  a  trump,  ever  since  we  came 
over  the  plains  together,  and  I  couldn't  keep  any  thing 
in  my  heart  from  you." 

"Don't  gush,"  Captain  Elyot  said  shortly.  "What 
can  I  do  for  you,  boy  ?  " 

"  You  might  help  me,  if  you  would,  since  it  is  noth- 
ing to  you.  Now,  if  you  "  — 

"  Please  to  consider  yourself.  I  might  help  you,  and 
so  I  will ;  any  thing  in  the  world." 

He  had  succeeded  in  making  his  voice  almost  hearty 
and  free. 

"If  you'd  —  stay  away." 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  167 

"What?" 

"  If  you  would  stay  away  till  I  could  try  my  chance." 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure,"  Captain  Elyot  answered  quietly, 
hardly  knowing  what  he  was  saying. 

"  Not  entirely,  of  course.  You'll  have  to  take  me 
round  there  at  first ;  for  Mrs.  Stubbs  will  never  let  me 
into  the  house  until  she  has  forgotten  this.  Even  when 
I  have  made  my  peace  with  her,  you  must  show  your- 
self occasionally,  just  to  keep  her  in  good-humor ;  not 
staying  long  at  a  time,  or  saying  too  much  to  Miss  Blos- 
som." 

"No,  oh,  no!"  Then,  "I  suppose  you  have  con- 
sidered this  matter  on  every  side  ?  " 

"  I  can't  think  of  any  thing  else." 

"As  far  as  it  concerns  your  own  happiness.  But 
have  you  given  a  thought  to  how  this  fancy  —  I  beg 
your  pardon  —  this  —  this  choice  may  strike  —  your 
father  and  mother  ?  " 

All  the  vague  doubts  as  to  the  wisdom  of  a  connec- 
tion with  the  Stubbs  family  took  shape,  and  crowded 
upon  Captain  Elyot's  mind  now.  He  remembered  old 
Colonel  Orme,  the  lieutenant's  father,  whom,  with  his 
elegant  wife,  he  had  met  a  year  or  two  before.  How 
would  they  look  upon  Blossom,  and,  above  all,  upon 
Mrs.  Stubbs?  Surely  it  was  his  duty,  if  not  to  warn 
the  lieutenant,  at  least  to  set  this  matter  before  him. 
It  was  possibly  one  of  those  times  when  duty  is  an 
unconscious  satisfaction. 

"They  might  stand  out  at  first;  but  they'd  come 
round." 

Young  Orme's  doubts  had  faded  when  thrust  into  the 
tight 

"She  is  so  sweet,  who  could  resist  her?" 


168  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

"  Who,  indeed ! "  thought  Captain  Elyot,  forgetting 
to  respond  aloud,  and  aware  of  nothing  but  that  he  was 
being  galloped  over  rough-shod  by  this  heedless  boy. 

"  But  the  old  woman  ?     There's  the  rub  !  " 

And  the  lieutenant  thrust  both  hands  into  what 
would  have  been  a  mass  of  light  curls  but  for  a  very 
close  cut  of  the  day  before,  as  he  stared  with  scowling 
brow  at  the  rough  deal  table  on  which  his  elbows 
rested. 

"  I  suppose  one  couldn't  kill  her !  Fancy  my  mother 
taking  up  Mrs.  Stubbs !  But  don't  distress  yourself, 
old  fellow.  Perhaps  we  could  pension  her  off.  There'd 
be  some  way  to  arrange  all  that.  There  always  is." 

And,  with  this  cheerful  young  philosophy,  the  confer* 
ence  ended,  as  Captain  Elyot  announced  his  intention 
of  retiring.  Without  some  reminder  of  the  lateness  of 
the  hour,  Lieutenant  Orme  would  have  gone  on  till 
morning,  singing  Blossom's  praises,  and  balancing  his 
chances.  His  hopes  grew  with  the  sound  of  his  own 
voice ;  and  he  went  off  at  last  entirely  assured  and 
happy. 

"  You  shall  be  best  man ! "  he  exclaimed,  thrusting 
his  head  in  at  the  door,  when  he  had  apparently  taken 
himself  away.  "  And  see  here,  Elyot,"  appearing  again, 
"I  shall  expect  you  to  make  it  all  right  with  the 
coloneL" 

"Get  to  bed,  will  you?"  roared  Captain  Elyot  at 
this  second  interruption.  "  And  mind,  boy,  I  positively 
decline  dwelling  upon  this  subject  more  than  twelve 
hours  out  of  the  twenty-four,  vitally  interesting  though 
it  is.  And  now  off  with  you !  " 

And  he  closed  the  door,  and  turned  the  key  in  the 
lock. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  169 

He  had  the  room  to  himself;  but  still  he  was  in  no 
haste  to  retire.  He  paced  back  and  forth,  smoking 
one  pipe  after  another,  until  long  after  every  sound 
about  him  was  stilled.  Once,  in  passing  his  open  desk, 
a  sealed  letter,  lying  with  face  upturned,  caught  his 
eye.  It  was  the  one  he  had  written  and  never  sent  to 
his  uncle  Jeremy.  He  tore  it  up  deliberately  before  he 
resumed  his  march.  He  was  in  no  mood  to-night  to 
bind  himself  with  chains  of  this  old  man's  welding, 
though  what  did  it  matter  what  became  of  him  now  ? 
The  morning,  pale  and  gray-clad,  peered  into  his  room 
before,  tired  out  at  last,  he  went  to  bed. 

He  acceded  to  all  his  friend  had  proposed.  He  took 
him  around  to  Mrs.  Stubbs's  domicile,  and  assisted  him 
to  make  his  peace  with  that  exacting  female.  Then  he 
staid  away  faithfully  for  a  fortnight.  Even  when  his 
visits  were  resumed,  they  were  at  intervals  growing 
longer  as  the  weeks  went  by.  He  held  firmly  to  his 
promise,  as  a  soldier  and  man  of  honor  should  do,  he 
said  to  himself,  when  the  light  from  Blossom's  window 
tempted  him  in  passing  the  house.  The  brightness 
seemed  to  have  dropped  out  of  his  life  at  this  time.  It 
was  like  an  illuminated  picture  with  the  sun  left  out. 
But  he  kept  faithfully  to  his  promise.  He  was  haunted 
by  Blossom's  face  as  he  had  seen  it  the  night  after  her 
fall  on  the  ice,  lying  against  the  thornless  roses,  with  its 
half-shut  eyes,  its  drooping  mouth,  like  those  of  a  tired 
child.  And  again  he  thrilled  at  the  thought  of  the  trem- 
bling hand  he  had  kissed.  She  had  made  no  effort  to  draw 
it  away.  She  had  flushed  rosy  red.  Could  he  have  mis- 
taken the  meaning  of  it  all?  She  was  a  child,  innocent, 
ignorant  of  hrisi-lf,  but  with  the  heart  of  a  woman. 
And  hud  her  heart  not  responded  to  his  in  that  one 


170  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

instant  ?  He  asked  himself  this  again  and  again,  more 
frequently,  perhaps,  than  was  quite  consistent  with  the 
fealty  he  had  sworn  to  his  friend ;  for  he  had  vowed 
within  himself  that  he  would  put  all  thought  of  Blos- 
som out  of  his  mind.  But  the  thought  of  those  we 
love  is  like  ghosts  and  spirits:  bolts  nor  bars  avail 
against  them.  And  though  he  saw  the  girl  but  seldom 
now,  and  rarely  without  the  lieutenant  by  his  side  to 
divide  with  him  her  smiles  and  blushes,  the  shadow  of 
her  innocent  self  never  left  him. 

The  lieutenant,  in  the  mean  while,  vibrated  between, 
assurance  and  despair,  and,  like  a  sieve,  could  hold 
neither  hopes  nor  fears.  Reduced  to  infinitesimal  tor- 
menting particulars  by  this  filtering,  his  visits  to  the 
Stubbses,  —  which  he  had  managed  to  make  almost 
daily  again,  —  Blossom's  friendly  greeting,  her  timid 
ways,  her  growing  charms,  were  all  spread  out  by  the 
boy  before  his  friend.  To  listen  was  like  rubbing  an 
inflamed  wound  ;  and  yet  Captain  Elyot  could  not  turn 
his  ear  away.  Unconsciously,  while  he  argued  aloud  for 
his  friend,  or  mechanically  concurred  in  the  lieuten- 
ant's hopes,  he  was  arguing  mentally  in  his  own  favor, 
and  feeding  little  by  little  the  flame  he  honestly  in- 
tended to  extinguish.  At  times  he  was  tempted  to 
throw  up  his  commission,  return  to  the  States,  and 
even  submit  himself  to  uncle  Jeremy's  wishes.  But 
the  last  was  only  the  indifference  of  despair ;  and  this 
state  was  -never  of  long  continuance.  More  often,  the 
increasing  fascination  of  Blossom's  vicinity,  even  though 
he  saw  her  so  seldom  now,  held  him  to  the  fort. 

The  winter  was  wearing  away.  There  had  been  no 
excitement  of  action,  and  but  little  social  gayety,  to 
make  the  long,  dull  days,  or  still  duller  evenings,  pass 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  171 

more  swiftly ;  and  discontent,  or  indifference  to  every 
thing,  —  except  the  card-table,  which  still  held  its  vo- 
taries,—  was  slowly  creeping  into  the  garrison,  when 
news  came  that  disturbances  had  broken  out  down  in 
the  Washita  country,  with  a  report  that  troops  were  to 
be  sent  at  once  from  Fort  Atchison  to  join  General 
Johnston  there. 

Languor  and  discontent  vanished  like  a  puff  of 
smoke.  Any  thing  was  better  than  the  mole-life  they 
had  been  leading  for  the  past  three  months.  Even 
death  is  a  cup  men  drink  greedily  enough,  with  a  froth 
of  excitement  on  the  top.  And  not  an  officer  at  the 
post — unless  among  the  married  men,  with  whom  family 
considerations  weighed  heavily  —  but  hoped  he  might 
be  ordered  to  join  the  expedition. 

The  choice  fell  upon  two,  —  Captain  Luttrell,  whose 
long  service,  and  good  judgment  in  military  affairs, 
made  him  a  competent  leader,  and  Lieutenant  Orme. 

"  It's  the  best  chance  that  could  fall  to  me,"  said  the 
boy,  rushing  in  upon  Captain  Elyot  to  announce  the 
news,  and  talk  it  over.  "  If  I  dawdled  the  whole  winter 
away  here,  I  should  be  good  for  nothing  by  spring; 
arid  I  want  to  be  a  soldier  first  of  all,"  he  added, 
straightening  his  boyish  form,  while  a  faint  blush  of 
shy  pride  showed  for  a  moment  on  his  cheek. 

"  That's  right,  old  fellow ! "  said  Captain  Elyot,  laying 
an  affectionate  hand  upon  the  young  man's  shoulder. 

Then  they  were  silent.  Each  knew  of  whom  the 
oilier  v,-as  thinking.  But  something  choked  the  boy; 
and  Captain  Elyot  could  not  bring  himself  to  utter 
lilossom's  name.  He  was  ashamed  to  feel  that  his  heart 
liail  li  a]>nl  in  li'mi  Avhen  he  found  that  his  friend  was  to 
go,  that  tlic  way  would  bu  open  for  him  now,  if  ho 


172  HIS   INHEEITANCE. 

chose  to  walk  in  it.  He  fought  it  out  with  himself  in 
that  brief  moment  while  the  lieutenant  was  declaring 
his  ambition.  He  put  self  under  his  feet  with  a  strug- 
gle :  the  boy  should  have  his  chance. 

"  But  all  the  same,"  he  went  on,  "  if  you  prefer  to 
stay,  I  fancy  I  have  a  little  influence  at  headquarters, 
and  could  persuade  the  major  to  let  me  go  in  your 
place.  I'm  rather  rusty  with  lying  by  so  long,"  he  said 
carelessly. 

"  Yes,  I  thought  of  that,"  the  boy  replied  coolly. 
"  I  knew  you  would ;  and  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that 
I  was  tempted  at  first  to  stay." 

A  bright  blush  glowed  all  over  the  young  face  as  he 
went  on :  — 

"But  you  see,  Elyot,  I'd  better  go.  I've  thought 
sometimes  that  she  looked  on  me  as  a  boy ;  and  I  want 
to  show  her  that  I'm  not  afraid  of  any  of  it,"  he  burst 
out ;  and,  throwing  himself  down  into  a  chair,  he  cov- 
ered his  face,  and  sobbed  like  a  girl. 

"  What  must  you  think  of  me  ? "  he  said  after  a 
moment. 

"  I  think  too  well  of  you  to  want  you  sent  off  on  a 
winter  campaign  like  this,"  Captain  Elyot  replied  under 
his  breath. 

He  was  more  moved  by  the  boy's  reliance  upon  him, 
and  the  confidence  he  felt  himself  but  half  to  deserve, 
than  he  chose  to  show. 

"You'd  better  let  me  try  for  your  place,"  he  said 
aloud.  "  Nobody  would  be  the  wiser ;  and  I'm  used  to 
it.  It  would  only  be  play  to  me,"  though  he  knew  full 
well  that  the  only  play  would  be  cold  and  fighting,  and 
perhaps  death.  "  Come,  say  the  word,  and  I'll  go  up  to 
headquarters  at  once." 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  173 

But  the  lieutenant  refused. 

"  I  should  feel  like  a  coward.  Besides,  I've  been 
waiting  for  something  like  this.  I  could  speak  to  her, 
perhaps,  if  I  knew  I  were  going  away.  Suppose  we  go 
down  there  now  ?  She  can't  have  heard  it  so  soon.  I 
believe  I  would  like  to  tell  her  myself." 

"  Then  you  don't  want  me  ? "  said  Captain  Elyot 
hastily,  pleading  an  engagement,  and  hurrying  away 
from  his  friend. 

He  believed  that  the  lieutenant  was  about  to  try  his 
fate,  and  he  could  not  sit  quietly  and  wait  to  know  the 
result.  He  started  off  upon  a  solitary  walk,  conscious 
that  renunciation  leaves  a  bitter  taste  in  the  mouth. 
He  had  done  his  duty;  he  had  behaved  as  a  man  of 
honor  should  do :  but  he  was  neither  glad,  nor  at  peace 
with  himself. 

But  the  lieutenant  had  no  intention  of  declaring  his 
feelings  to  Blossom  at  once,  unless  some  particularly 
fortunate  chance  should  occur.  He  would  tell  her, 
first,  that  he  was  to  go  away,  and  watch  the  effect  of 
these  tidings  upon  her.  He  had  read  of  girls  who  trem- 
bled and  turned  pale  when  their  lovers  were  sent  into 
danger  and  possible  death.  Would  she  thus  uncon- 
sciously reveal  her  tender  interest  in  him  ?  If  she  did, 
he  would  tell  her  all,  and  assure  her  that  he  should  hold 
his  life  as  something  precious  indeed,  since  she  valued  it. 

He  burned  with  excitement  as  he  hastened  toward 
the  sutler's  quarters,  while  he  planned  all  this  scene  in 
his  mind,  giving  to  it  the  happiest  termination.  It  was 
too  wonderful  to  be  true.  And  yet  it  had  been  real- 
ized for  others :  might  it  not  be  for  him  ? 

But  Blossom  did  not  tremble,  nor  did  the  pretty 
color  leave  her  face.  She  had  heard  the  news  before 
he  reached  her,  and  opened  the  subject  herself. 


174  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

"So  you  are  going  away,"  she  said,  "and  down 
into  that  dreadful  country  where  the  Indians  are  mur- 
dering the  women  and  children  ! " 

She  did  shudder  as  she  spoke,  and  her  face  may 
have  paled ;  for  there  came  to  her  a  recollection,  vivid 
and  piercing,  of  that  one  time  of  horror  in  her  own  life 
not  many  months  past.  This  was  not  the  emotion 
Orme  had  hoped  for.  It  had  little  to  do  with  himself, 
the  lieutenant  felt ;  and  his  heart  suddenly  dragged  like 
an  anchor  wrenched  from  its  hold.  But  despair  catches 
at  straws.  Might  it  not  have  been  different  if  she  had 
been  alone  ?  There  sat  Mrs.  Stubbs,  prim,  black,  and 
silent,  with  some  stiff,  ugly  knitting  in  her  hand,  cast- 
ing a  shadow  over  the  whole  bright  room  lying  open  to 
the  winter  sunlight. 

"  I  hope  you'll  think  of  us  sometimes,  Miss  Blossom," 
said  Orme,  twirling  his  cap,  and  forgetting  all  the  fine 
things  he  hoped  to  say. 

In  spite  of  his  efforts  at  self-command,  the  tears 
would  rush  into  his  eyes.  Blossom  did  not  see  them. 
He  could  not  have  borne  that  humiliation.  But  she 
was  struck  by  the  dejected  air  of  her  friend,  and  was 
truly  distressed  over  his  departure. 

"  I  shall  think  of  you  a  great  many  times ;  every  day, 
and  —  and  more,"  she  replied.  "  Indeed,  I  shall  miss 
you  more  than  I  can  say." 

And  there  was  a  catch  in  the  voice  which  suddenly 
ceased.  It  may  be  that  a  scene  would  have  ensued  but 
for  Mrs.  Stubbs's  presence,  though  hardly  of  so  tender 
a  nature  as  the  boy  had  pictured  to  himself.  As  it 
was,  Mrs.  Stubbs  thought  it  time  to  interfere.  She 
had  not  left  the  store,  and  donned  a  clean  apron  at 
this  hour  of  the  day,  to  have  this  young  man  make  love 
to  her  daughter  before  her  eyes. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  175 

"  You'll  soon  be  coming  back,"  she  broke  in,  warm- 
ing wonderfully,  to  all  appearance,  toward  the  young 
man,  and  speaking  in  a  cheery  voice,  for  which  Blossom 
blessed  her  in  her  heart.  All  her  hopeful  words  of  en- 
couragement were  drowned  in  a  sea  of  tears,  welling 
behind  her  eyes  at  the  moment. 

"  It  won't  be  long  before  you  an'  Blossom'll  be  sing- 
ing your  pretty  songs  again,  I'll  warrant  ye." 

"  But  not  with  my  leave  or  consent,"  she  added  to 
herself.  There  had  been  folly  enough  already,  she 
thought,  watching  the  boy's  changing  countenance, 
which  any  one  might  read.  She  blessed  her  stars  that 
she  had  left  her  work,  and  taken  up  her  position  in  the 
parlor,  anticipating  some  such  visit  as  this.  It  had 
been  inconvenient,  and  at  the  time  seemed  almost  im- 
possible. Officers  of  distinction  from  other  posts  were 
here  on  their  way  south.  They  were  to  leave  with  the 
detachment  from  Fort  Atchison  early  the  next  morn- 
ing ;  and  the  ladies,  perhaps  to  banish  dismal  thoughts, 
had  planned  a  ball  for  this  night.  The  band  were 
blowing  themselves  faint  in  preparation  for  so  unusual 
an  event.  The  store  had  been  ransacked,  and  Mrs. 
Stubbs  driven  wild  by  the  impossible  demands  upon 
her.  And,  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  she  had  taken  up  her 
position  in  her  own  parlor  as  though  she  had  nothing 
to  do  but  complete  the  endless  round  of  the  ugly  blue 
stocking  in  her  hand. 

At  this  moment  a  summons  came  to  her  from  the 
store. 

"  Well,  good  luck  t'ye,  and  you  must  tell  us  all  about 
it  when  you  come  back,"  she  said  with  a  cheerful  air  of 
dismissal,  rolling  up  her  work,  and  waiting  for  the 
young  man  to  take  his  leave. 


176  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

And  was  it  to  end  like  this  ?  Was  he  not  to  see 
Blossom  again  ?  The  woman's  rough,  cheerful  parting 
words  went  on  in  his  ears,  and  still  he  did  not  rise,  or 
offer  to  make  reply.  He  was  struck  dumb  and  motion- 
less. It  had  all  proved  so  different  from  his  dream  !  At 
last,  by  an  effort,  he  got  upon  his  feet.  Some  suspicion 
of  Mrs.  Stubbs's  scheming  had  struggled  in  upon  his 
mind,  and  gave  him  strength.  "But  I  shall  see  you 
again  before  we  set  off."  Then,  like  a  ray  of  light  out 
of  the  darkness,  a  thought  crossed  his  mind.  "  I  shall 
see  you  to-night,"  he  said  hastily.  "  Surely,  Miss  Blos- 
som, you  will  be  at  the  ball  ?  " 

Blossom  looked  to  her  mother,  her  face  flushed  and 
glowing  with  sudden  heat.  Oh  if  she  could !  if  it  were 
possible  that  this  unknown  delight  were  in  store  for 
her !  The  boy  did  not  notice  how  soon  she  had  forgot- 
ten his  going  away.  He  was  intent  only  upon  his  hope 
of  seeing  her  once  more,  of  having  an  opportunity  to 
whisper  one  tender  word  in  her  ear. 

Mrs.  Stubbs  hesitated.  But  why  should  she  deny 
the  child  the  sight,  the  like  of  which  would  not  occur 
again  for  a  long  time  ?  And  yet  she  shrank  from  put- 
ting herself  forward,  from  thrusting  herself  into  a  com- 
pany where  she  knew  she  would  be  unwelcome.  Still, 
if  she  refused,  might  not  this  boy  haunt  the  house,  and 
even  obtain  entrance  in  her  absence  ?  There  was  safety 
in  a  crowd.  And  then  Captain  Elyot  would  be  there. 
He  had  absented  himself  of  late,  in  a  way  that  both 
puzzled  and  annoyed  the  woman.  Were  her  schemes 
to  be  foiled,  after  all  ? 

"  Blossom  could  not  go  alone,"  she  began,  revolving 
the  matter  in  her  mind. 

"If  I   might" — suggested   the   lieutenant   eagerly. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  177 

But  he  checked  himself ;  for  he  saw  that  lie  had  made  a 
mistake.  "  Come  yourself,  Mrs.  Stubbs,"  he  said  as 
cordially  as  he  could,  considering  that  he  did  not  in  the 
least  desire  her  presence.  "  You'll  enjoy  looking  on. 
Everybody  is  to  be  there." 

"  We  might  look  in  for  a  while,"  the  woman  said 
doubtfully. 

"Do,  Mrs.  Stubbs!  Mind  that  you  come  now:  I'll 
be  on  the  watch  for  you.  And  I  won't  say  good-by,  or 
take  any  of  your  good  wishes,  since  we  are  to  meet 
again."  And  the  lieutenant  went  off  in  high  spirits  to 
report  his  success  to  his  friend,  sure,  from  the  remem- 
brance of  Blossom's  glowing  face  as  he  turned  away 
from  the  door,  that  it  needed  but  one  undisturbed  mo- 
ment by  her  side  to  make  him  entirely  happy. 


178  HIS   INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  BALL. 

THE  festivities  were  well  under  way  before  Mrs. 
Stubbs  and  Blossom  approached  the  ball-room. 
The  woman  could  fight,  both  for  her  daughter  and  her- 
self, valiantly  and  victoriously,  upon  her  own  ground ; 
but  to  appear  here  was  like  carrying  the  war  into  Africa. 
To  put  one's  self  deliberately  into  an  unwelcome  posi- 
tion can  never  be  agreeable,  even  to  the  most  calloused 
feelings ;  and  Mrs.  Stubbs's  sensibilities  had  become  more 
and  more  acute  each  day  as  she  fancied  herself  brow- 
beaten and  "  put  upon,"  as  she  expressed  it  to  herself. 
She  was  rich,  rich :  day  and  night  this  rang  in  her  inner 
ears  like  a  call  to  worship;  yet  no  one  came  to  bow 
down  before  her.  She  was  astonished  at  the  extent  of 
her  wealth.  Stubbs  had  been  a  careful  man,  a  man  not 
given  to  boasting  even  in  the  presence  of  his  own  wife ; 
and,  though  she  knew  that  each  visit  to  the  States  aug- 
mented the  store  laid  by  there  against  future  need,  she 
did  not  dream  of  its  having  reached  the  sum  she  found 
it  to  be  when  death  revealed  all'of  Stubbs's  secrets.  It 
seemed  limitless  to  her  as  she  fingered  notes  and  bonds 
and  deeds.  She  regarded  herself  with  awe  as  the  pos- 
sessor of  all  this  wealth.  Why  did  not  others  give  her 


HIS    INHERITANCE.  179 

the  reverence  she  bestowed  upon  herself?  And  what 
was  it  that  held  her  back  from  taking  her  place  with 
the  best  of  them  ?  Was  it  the  store  ?  A  few  weeks,  or 
months  at  most,  would  put  that  out  of  her  hands.  But 
even  this  thought  failed  to  assure  her.  Strive  as  she 
might,  she  could  never  be  like  the  others:  this  she 
knew  deep  down  in  her  heart.  Theirs  had  been  a  life 
of  ease  and  of  gentle  associations,  while  hers  had  been 
one  of  hardship  and  work  and  rough  ways.  Each  had 
left  an  ineffaceable  mark :  even  gold  would  not  rub  it 
out.  But  the  child  —  and  then  she  came  back  to  Blos- 
som, who  was  the  Rome  to  which  all  the  roads  of  her 
fancy  led.  Blossom  would  yet  be  a  lady  :  it  might  be 
when  she  was  dead  and  out  of  the  way;  and  death 
sometimes  seemed  a  boon  to  the  woman. 

They  were  in  the  dressing-room ;  and  Mrs.  Stubbs 
was  laying  aside  her  coarse,  heavy  shawl,  as  these 
thoughts  flew  through  her  mind :  there  was  their  nest 
indeed,  to  which  they  constantly  returned ;  there  they 
multiplied  and  brooded,  and  filled  her  with  dark  fan- 
cies, like  uneasy  wings.  There  was  a  cold  sensation 
about  her  heart  as  she  smoothed  down  her  hair.  How 
they  would  stare  at  her,  and  wonder  why  she  had  come 
here ! 

"  We'll  not  be  long :  you'll  soon  see  enough  of  it," 
she  said  to  Blossom,  pulling  out  the  sombre  folds  of  her 
stiff  black  gown,  and  trying  to  hide  the  nervousness 
which  nearly  overcame  her.  She  had  regarded  appear- 
ances so  far  as  to  assume  her  best  gown ;  but  this  was 
the  only  concession  she  had  made  to  the  occasion. 
Her  hard,  bony  hands  were  uncovered ;  her  dark  hair, 
streaked  with  gray,  was  brushed  plainly  down  on  either 
side  the  face  fast  losing  its  comeliness.  No  fold  of 


180  HIS   INTTERTTANCE. 

crape,  or  shred  of  softening  lace,  concealed  it.  There 
had  been  no  attempt  to  make  herself  fine. 

The  bewitching  sound  of  horns  and  bugles,  with  the 
patter  of  feet,  and  the  slide  of  silk  over  the  floor,  came 
out  to  meet  them  through  the  open  door. 

"  Oh,  how  beautiful  it  is  ! "  cried  happy  Blossom, 
peeping  in.  She  neither  hoped  nor  feared  any  thing. 
She  was  only  wild  with  excitement  over  the  little 
glimpse  of  glory  she  had  caught  through  the  open  door. 
Never  for  a  moment  did  she  dream  of  the  faintness  at 
the  heart  of  the  woman  who  waited  in  silence  for  her 
to  slip  out  of  her  cloak,  and  shake  out  her  pretty  white 
gown.  She  had  worn  it  last  —  caught  here  and  there 
with  roses  —  at  some  school  festival  in  the  East.  The 
roses  had  been  replaced  by  knots  of  velvet,  though  one 
white  bud  was  caught  now  in  her  curls.  But  her 
cheeks  were  roses  (blush-roses),  and  her  eyes  were 
gems ;  and  she  needed  nothing  more  for  adornment, 
when  she  had  thrown  a  little  white  cloak  over  her 
pretty  bare  shoulders,  and  followed  her  mother  into 
fairyland. 

And  a  very  prosaic  fairyland  it  was  to  one  without 
the  glamour  of  youth  over  his  eyes,  —  ornamented  with 
strips  of  bunting  and  of  light-colored  cambric,  every 
yard  of  which  had  passed  through  Mrs.  Stubbs's  own 
hands.  Somewhat  cold  too.  Blossom  drew  the  cloak 
closer  about  her  throat  as  she  looked  around  her 
with  innocent,  eager  eyes.  The  trumpets  shrieked,  the 
cymbals  clashed,  and  the  drums  rolled  in  between. 
They  were  silenced  as  the  dance  ended.  The  dancers 
dispersed  to  find  seats,  or  promenade  slowly  up  and 
down  the  long  room.  But  it  was  fairyland,  neverthe- 
less, to  Blossom,  with  its  bright  lights  (Mrs.  Stubbs's 


HIS    INHERITANCE.  181 

own  candles,  if  the  truth  were  told),  the  music  begin- 
ning to  rise  again  softly,  the  gay  uniforms  and- gleam- 
ing gowns  floating  by.  The  girl  had  never  seen  any 
thing  half  so  dazzling  before. 

They  could  not  have  chosen  a  more  fortunate  mo- 
ment for  their  entrance.  They  found  seats  near  the 
door  as  the  dance  broke  up,  and  for  a  time  escaped 
notice.  But  Blossom  was  entirely  too  pretty  to  have 
this  oblivion  continue  long.  One  and  another  of  the 
strangers  began  to  observe  her. 

"  I  say,  Miss  Bryce,  who  is  that  little  girl  ?  "  asked 
a  young  captain,  elegant,  indolent,  but  curious,  and  one 
of  the  visitors  at  the  post. 

Claudia  stared,  could  not  believe  her  eyes,  stared 
again,  using  her  eyeglass  this  time. 

"  What  impertinence  !  "  she  exclaimed  aloud,  forget- 
ting her  interlocutor,  and  turning  to  wliisper  her  in- 
dignation into  the  ear  of  the  friend  at  her  side. 

"  Who  is  she,  Orme  ? "  persisted  the  young  man, 
seizing  the  lieutenant  by  the  arm  as  he  hastened  by, 
evidently  in  search  of  some  one.  "And  see  here, 
Orme,  let  me  give  you  a  word  of  advice,"  as  he  led  him 
away ;  "  don't  ever  be  such  a  fool  as  to  ask  about  one 
woman  of  another.  You  should  have  seen  the  major's 
daughter  just  now." 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  repeated  the  lieutenant,  whose  eyes 
were  searching  the  room  while  he  only  half  caught 
the  words  addressed  to  him.  "  The  major's  daughter  ? 
Why,  man,  you  were  talking  with  her  as  I  came  up." 

"  Nonsense !  Who  is  that  pretty  little  thing  down 
by  the  door,  with  the  black  bat  beside  her  ?  " 

"  Why,  there  she  is  now !  "  exclaimed  the  lieutenant, 
as  his  eye  followed  his  friend's,  and  lit  upon  Blossom ; 


182  HIS   INTIEftlTANCE. 

and,  twisting  his  arm  free,  he  darted  down  the  room  to 
her. 

"  When  did  you  come  in  ?  I've  been  looking  out  for 
you  the  last  hour.  Confounded  draught  from  that  door ! 
Let  me  find  you  another  seat.  And,  Miss  Blossom, 
they're  forming  a  quadrille,  —  will  you  accept  the  most 
awkward  partner  in  the  room?  I'm  awfully  stupid, 
but  think  I  could  get  you  through." 

"We're  only  looking  on,  Blossom  and  me,"  Mrs. 
Stubbs  interposed  in  confusion,  drawing  back  stiffly. 

"  But  surely  she  might  be  permitted  one  dance," 
urged  the  lieutenant.  His  chances  for  a  word  with  the 
girl  were  slight  indeed,  if  her  mother  were  to  hold  her 
by  her  side  all  the  evening,  after  this  manner. 

"I  —  I  would  rather  stay  here,"  Blossom  answered 
shyly,  shrinking  from  a  stare  of  over-bold  admiration  as 
Captain  Luttrell  swaggered  by.  She  had  longed  to 
dance;  but  her  courage  failed  when  the  opportunity 
came.  "  But  don't  let  us  keep  you  here,"  she  went  on, 
as  Orme  settled  into  a  seat. 

"  Oh !  I  never  dance  when  I  can  help  it,"  the  boy 
replied  frankly.  "  Besides,  we're  to  hang  back  to-night, 
you  know,  and  give  the  other  fellows  a  chance.  And, 
by  the  way,"  as  a  sudden  recollection  crossed  his  mind, 
"one  of  them  was  inquiring  you  out  a  moment  ago. 
First-rate  fellow,  captain  in  the  Sixth  Infantry,  know 
all  about  his  family — may  I  bring  him  up,  Mrs. 
Stubbs?" 

It  was  an  exercise  of  self-denial  on  the  part  of  the 
young  man ;  and  he  almost  hoped  Mrs.  Stubbs  would 
refuse.  But  no,  she  consented  at  once;  and  he  went 
off  in  search  of  his  friend.  He  found  him  hanging 
upon  the  skirts  of  the  major's  party. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  183 

"  Beg  pardon  for  leaving  you  so  abruptly,"  the  lieu- 
tenant said ;  "  but  the  truth  is,  I  was  looking  for  her 
myself.  I'll  introduce  you  now." 

"  Thanks !  But  believe  I  don't  care  about  it,"  was  the 
reply,  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  as  the  young  man 
turned  away.  "  She's  the  sutler's  daughter,  isn't  she  ?  " 

"  She's  the  prettiest  girl  here,  and  the  best  of  them 
all ;  and  any  one  who  says  "  — 

"  Don't  excite  yourself,  Orme,"  said  the  other  one 
coldly.  "  She's  a  pattern  of  the  virtues,  I  don't  doubt, 
and  pretty  enough,  I'll  admit ;  but  the  truth  is,  I've  en- 
gaged Miss  Bryce  for  this  dance,  and  if  you  would  be 
so  obliging,  my  dear  fellow,  as  to  permit  me  to  pass." 
For  Orme,  heated,  and  almost  menacing,  stood  directly 
in  his  path. 

The  music  had  struck  up ;  and  the  dancers,  hastening 
to  their  places,  jostled  him  on  every  side. 

Miss  Bryce,  sweeping  by,  gave  him  a  disapproving 
glance  with  her  cool  bow.  She  had  not  overheard  his 
words;  but  she  had  marked  his  quarrelsome  attitude 
and  flushed  face,  and  decided  in  her  own  mind  that  the 
lieutenant  had  been  drinking,  early  in  the  evening 
though  it  was.  It  was  disgraceful  that  the  young  men 
should  do  so.  It  had  grown  up  from  "  Stubbs's,"  and 
it  would  be  a  blessing  to  the  post  if  the  whole  pestilent 
family  were  removed.  To  think  that  the  woman  should 
actually  force  herself  and  her  daughter  upon  them 
here  ! 

Lieutenant  Orme  took  himself  out  of  the  way  of  the 
dancers,  he  hardly  knew  how,  and  in  a  quiet  corner 
strove  to  compose  himself  before  returning  to  Blossom 
and  her  mother.  There  was  no  one  among  them  all 
worthy  to  stand  beside  her,  he  thought  loyally,  even 


184  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

though  they  chose  to  despise  her.  And  how  pretty  she 
was !  If  the  truth  must  be  told,  Blossom's  face  went  a 
long  way  toward  attaching  her  friends  to  her.  He  staid 
away  until  he  began  to  fear  they  would  wonder  over  his 
absence.  Then  he  went  back  to  them,  very  sore,  and 
a  good  deal  ashamed  for  his  friend,  with  a  shame  which 
seemed  to  cover  upon  himself. 

"  He  was  engaged.  I  couldn't  bring  him,"  he  stam- 
mered ;  for  Mrs.  Stubbs's  sharp  eyes  seemed  to  pierce 
through  him,  and  see  into  his  very  soul.  He  felt  that 
she  more  than  half  suspected  the  truth ;  and  the  excuse 
he  had  prepared  to  offer  slipped  out  of  his  mind.  "  It's 
lucky  for  me ;  that  is,  if  you'll  let  me  stay  here."  He 
took  the  vacant  seat  by  Mrs.  Stubbs's  side,  and  tried 
manfully,  in  the  occasional  lulls  of  sound,  to  interest 
and  amuse  his  companions.  Claudia  Bryce,  whirling 
past  them,  threw  an  icy  glance  upon  Blossom,  in  which 
was  no  recognition,  her  companion  staring  fixedly  over 
the  heads  of  the  party ;  girls  neither  so  young  nor  half 
.so  sweet  of  face  kept  time  to  the  music,  and  brushed 
poor  little  Blossom's  white  gown.  She  alone  of  all  the 
young  ladies  in  the  room  played  the  part  of  wall-flower, 
—  a  charming  wall-flower,  —  mignonette,  sweet-pea,  daf- 
fodil at  least,  but  a  wall-flower  nevertheless. 

More  than  one  pair  of  admiring  eyes  had  sought  her 
out  in  this  half-hour  before  supper ;  but  Claudia's  scorn 
of  the  girl,  and  indignation  at  her  intrusion  as  she 
called  it,  had  been  evident  to  all ;  and  no  one  of  the  gal- 
lants was  brave  enough  to  approach  her  in  the  very 
face  of  the  major's  daughter.  But  all  these  arrows  of 
scorn,  sharp  though  they  were,  glanced  off  the  head 
of  the  unconscious  girl.  It  was  the  mother  who  received 
them  into  her  quivering  heart. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  185 

The  couples  began  to  move  toward  the  supper-room 
as  the  dance  ended  and  the  music  changed.  The  young 
captain  who  had  scorned  Blossom  threw  a  quizzical 
glance  toward  Lieutenant  Orme.  Would  Orme  lead  the 
bat  and  her  charge  in  to  supper  ?  It  was  a  question 
the  boy  had  asked  of  himself.  He  would  have  been 
only  too  happy  to  devote  himself  to  the  daughter,  had 
she  been  unattended.  But  every  chivalric  emotion 
within  him  was  aroused  now;  and  he  would  hardly  have 
hesitated  to  lead  Mrs.  Stubbs  alone  down  the  floor. 

"  They  are  going  out  to  supper.  We  may  as  well 
follow,"  he  said  heroically,  but  with  the  most  indiffer- 
ent air  he  could  assume.  Already  the  room  was  half 
deserted.  But  Mrs.  Stubbs  refused. 

"  I'll  have  none  of  their  supper,"  she  said  in  a  harsh 
voice,  which  attracted  the  ear  of  more  than  one  passing 
by,  and  gave  an  unpleasant  prominence  to  the  odd  par- 
ty. Something  of  the  fire  that  burned  within  her 
flashed  out  of  her  eyes  as  she  settled  herself  in  her  seat 
with  an  air  of  defiance.  She  had  been  sharp  enough  to 
see  that  every  one  avoided  them,  and  to  know  that 
Lieutenant  Orme's  friend  had  not  cared  for  Blossom's 
acquaintance,  or  he  would  have  sought  her  out.  But 
she  had  overcome  her  first  impulse  to  leave.  Did  they 
think  to  drive  her  away  ?  She  would  see  it  out  with 
the  others.  She  would  stay  to  the  last,  despite  their 
sneers.  But  it  was  a  passive  resistance.  She  could 
hold  her  ground,  but  she  shrank  from  advancing. 

"  Blossom  may  go  if  she  has  a  mind  to,"  she  said,  re- 
lenting a  little.  "  You'll  have  a  care  over  her  ? "  she 
added,  almost  drawing  back  from  the  permission  so  un- 
expectedly granted.  Might  not  some  of  these  fine 
ladies  say  something  to  wound  the  child  ? 


186  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

"Trust  her  to  me:  I'll  bring  her  back  in  half  an 
hour,"  said  the  delighted  boy,  leading  her  hurriedly 
away,  lest  Mrs.  Stubbs  should  recall  her  consent.  "  Now 
give  me  your  fan  and  handkerchief,  and  we'll  have  a 
jolly  time,"  said  he,  taking  possession  of  both.  He 
tucked  her  dexterously  into  a  corner  behind  Mrs. 
Bryce's  broad  back,  which,  as  it  was  never  once  turned, 
made  an  ample  and  convenient  shield  and  screen.  One 
would  have  thought  her  the  seven-headed  monster,  in- 
stead of  a  rather  delicate  young  girl,  to  see  the  way  the 
boy  loaded  her  plate  until  the  contents  ran  over  into 
her  lap,  and  even  then  urged  more  upon  her. 

He  had  lost  the  self-consciousness  which  had  made 
him  dumb  in  her  presence  when  he  paid  his  visit  to  her 
earlier  in  the  day.  Now  was  the  time  to  utter  the  few 
words  he  had  been  longing  to  speak,  and  yet  a  most 
inauspicious  time.  How  could  he  talk  of  love,  of  un- 
dying affection,  with  the  rattling  of  plates  and  glasses 
in  his  ears  ?  Men  have  done  it,  but  at  a  fearful  risk ; 
and,  with  Mrs.  Bryce's  shoulder  so  dangerously  near, 
the  lieutenant  dared  not  make  the  attempt.  He  per- 
suaded her  to  take  a  short  promenade  before  returning 
to  her  mother,  who  sat,  silent  and  grim,  and  almost  the 
only  occupant  of  the  ball-room,  like  the  unbidden  old 
fairy  who  always  cast  a  shadow  over  the  feasts  in  the 
fairy-stories. 

The  heart  of  the  boy  thumped  fast  and  loud  under 
his  vest.  It  might  possibly  have  escaped  entirely,  but 
for  the  many  buttons  which  held  it  in.  Ah !  now 
was  his  opportunity.  The  music  fell  low  and  sweet 
and  beguiling;  the  caudles  had  burned  down,  until 
they  shed  a  less  garish  light  than  at  first ;  and  as 
he  led  her  away  to  a  part  of  the  room  where  they  were 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  187 

somewhat  screened  from  Mrs.  Stubbs's  sharp  eyes,  be- 
ginning already  to  search  for  her,  the  boy  thought  it 
the  happiest  moment  of  his  life.  A  joy  just  about  to 
be  snatched  away,  a  pleasure  ours  for  the  moment,  with 
the  consciousness  that  it  is  as  evanescent  as  sweet,  — 
what  can  be  more  intoxicating  ?  He  forgot  to  talk  to 
her :  it  was  pleasure  enough  to  feel  the  faint  pressure  of 
her  hand  upon  his  arm  as  their  feet  kept  time  to  the 
music.  He  forgot  that  he  was  to  go  away  into  danger, 
possibly  to  death;  or  perhaps  the  unconscious  knowl- 
edge of  this  made  the  present  moment  more  beguiling. 
The  room  was  filling  again.  After  all,  it  was  a  brief  joy. 
Miss  Laud,  hastening  by  to  join  the  dance,  broke  the 
spell. 

"  Oh !  you  monopolize  Lieutenant  Orme.  That  will 
never  do,"  she  said  with  a  good-natured  smile,  since 
Claudia  was  not  by  to  hear. 

Poor  Blossom  was  not  used  to  such  badinage.  She 
took  it  in  serious  earnest. 

"  We  —  we  had  better  go  back,"  she  said,  striving  to 
draw  away  the  hand  that  had  rested  with  the  weight  of 
a  rose-leaf  on  the  boy's  blue  sleeve. 

But  he  would  not  let  it  go. 

"It  is  I  who  have  taken  possession  of  her,"  he  said 
clumsily ;  "  and  we  won't  go  back  just  yet,"  to  Blossom, 
as  Miss  Laud  passed  out  of  hearing.  "  Don't  mind  her : 
she  is  always  saying  things,"  he  added  angrily. 

"  But  I  have  kept  you  from  the  others." 

"  What  do  I  care  for  the  others  ?  I  had  rather  be 
with  you  than  with  any  of  them.  I  would  rather  be  with 
you  than  with  anybody  else  in  the  world,"  he  went  on 
hotly. 

It  was  out  at  last.    Not  as  he  had  intended  it ;  but  he 


188  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

had  spoken  the  words  that  would  bring  him  joy  or 
pain,  he  knew  as  soon  as  he  had  uttered  them  ;  and  he 
waited,  with  a  stifled  feeling  at  his  heart,  for  her  to 
reply.  But  she  was  silent  now.  Could  it  be  possible 
that  she  understood,  and  was  too  shy  to  make  response  ? 
For  an  instant  he  was  dizzy  with  joy.  It  turned  his 
brain. 

"  O  Blossom !  "  he  began,  ready  to  pour  out  all  his 
love.  Then  he  looked  at  her ;  and  the  earth  suddenly 
stood  still,  and  the  room  grew  dark,  for  she  was  not 
listening  to  him  at  all.  She  was  following  with  her 
eyes  a  figure  just  advancing  through  the  doorway ;  and 
in  a  moment,  as  he  recognized  Captain  Elyot,  Orme 
knew  that  it  was  all  over  with  him.  He  felt  at  this 
moment  that  he  had  known  it  from  the  first,  and  that 
he  never  had  had  any  hope. 

"  Halloo,  there's  Elyot,"  he  said  quietly ;  for  a  strange 
calm,  like  the  numbness  after  a  hurt,  had  fallen  on 
him.  "  Suppose  we  go  back ;  "  and  he  took  her  to  her 
mother. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  189 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  RESCUE. 

CAPTAIN  ELYOT  had  felt  little  interest  in  the 
V_y  ball.  He  was  low-spirited  over  the  departure  of 
the  boy,  whom  he  had  taken  under  his  care  since  their 
ride  over  the  plains  together.  In  his  heart  he  was  sore 
and  almost  angry  that  he  was  not  to  go  in  Orme's 
place.  If  one  were  to  fall,  how  much  better  that  he 
should  be  that  one  rather  than  the  lieutenant !  Life 
held  few  charms  for  him  just  now ;  and  there  is  a  sweet- 
ness in  self-sacrifice,  —  in  that  kind  of  Enoch  Arden 
self-sacrifice,  which  ends  in  the  object  at  last  knowing 
all  about  it,  and  being  made  comfortably  wretched. 
And  so,  years  hence,  when  his  bones  were  bleaching 
and  crumbling  on  the  spot  where  he  had  fallen,  in 
place  of  the  lieutenant,  he  would  like  the  lieutenant  to 
know  the  cause  of  it.  Some  such  fancy  as  this  passed 
through  his  head  as  he  sat  alone,  smoking  a  solitary 
pipe  on  the  night  of  the  ball.  The  pipe  went  out.  He 
threw  it  down  in  disgust.  There  was  something  like 
contempt  of  himself  in  his  mind.  For  at  this  moment, 
though  he  was  jealous  and  sore  and  wretched  as  he 
believed,  he  was  by  no  means  sure  that  he  wanted  to 
marry  this  girl.  She  was  very  fair  to  look  at,  and  had 


190  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

crept,  unknown  to  himself,  very  close  to  his  heart.  But 
the  captain  was  both  cautious  and  proud,  and  by  no 
means  so  far  gone  in  his  infatuation  as  not  to  be  able 
to  speculate  upon  the  future  of  the  man  who  should 
win  the  sutler's  daughter.  He  must  leave  the  army  : 
of  that  there  was  no  question.  The  social  ostracism 
which  would  follow  such  a  step  would  be  unbearable 
to  a  man  of  spirit.  And  then  in  one  of  those  sudden 
visions,  vivid  as  reality,  only  more  intensified,  —  like 
the  concentration  of  a  dozen  realities,  —  Blossom's  baby 
face,  with  its  meek,  entreating  eyes,  rose  before  him,  and 
he  forgot  his  prejudices,  forgot  his  pride.  He  could 
have  taken  her  in  his  arms  before  all  the  world !  He 
threw  off  the  delusion  that  made  her  seem  present  for 
the  moment.  Such  fancies  were  not  in  accordance  with 
the  spirit  of  the  promise  he  had  made  to  his  friend.  It 
was  not  well  for  him  to  sit  here,  and  brood  alone  over 
his  unquiet  thoughts.  He  would  go  out  and  seek  so- 
ciety. 

As  he  rose  up  from  his  chair,  a  paper  at  his  elbow 
fluttered  down  to  the  floor.  He  had  forgotten  tins 
letter,  which  the  chaplain  had  put  into  his  hand  as  he 
came  from  the  mess-room.  It  was  only  another  of  uncle 
Jeremy's  missives,  which,  after  long  wandering  and 
delay,  had  found  him  out. 

"  I  have  heard  nothing  from  you  since  your  return  to 
your  regiment,"  the  old  man  wrote.  "  Nor  have  you 
<  written  to  Mary  "  (which  was  the  name  of  the  cousin 
down  on  the  Jersey  shore).  "There  are  those  who 
would  do  more  than  this  to  please  me ;  and^ou  will 
find  it  greatly  to  your  disadvantage  if  you  will  not  do 
as  much." 

So  the  old  man  threatened  him  at  last!    He  only 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  191 

laughed  scornfully  as  he  threw  the  letter  aside.  This 
affair  with  uncle  Jeremy,  which  had  so  annoyed  him  a 
few  weeks  since,  had  not  the  weight  of  a  feather  upon 
him  now.  He  tossed  the  letter  into  his  desk ;  but,  be- 
fore it  had  left  his  hand,  he  had  forgotten  its  contents. 
His  thoughts  had  sped  to  the  ball,  and  he  was  trying  to 
make  up  his  mind  to  follow  them.  He  had  half  engaged 
Miss  Laud  for  the  first  waltz ;  but  she  would  not  luck 
partners  where  her  sex  was  so  sparsely  represented.  A 
strong  desire  to  stroll  down  to  the  Stubbses  for  a  half- 
hour  came  over  him,  —  to  look  in  upon  this  little  girl, 
and  see  if  she  would  still  hold  her  own  in  his  imagina- 
tion. It  would  not  be  treachery  toward  his  friend. 
Weeks  had  passed  since  he  had  been  there  alone.  Be- 
sides, he  could  talk  of  the  boy.  Might  he  not  in  this 
way  do  him  a  service  ?  Then  he  remembered  the  lieu- 
tenant to  have  said  that  Mrs.  Stubbs  had  partly  prom- 
ised to  take  Blossom  to  the  ball.  He  had  hardly  given 
it  a  thought  at  the  time,  in  his  eagerness  to  hear  what 
more  there  might  be  to  tell  of  the  boy's  visit.  Would 
the  woman  do  so  ?  Would  she  expose  the  girl  to  the 
slights  and  sneers  which  he  knew  the  well-bred  ladies 
at  the  'post  were  capable  of  bestowing?  How  they 
might  hurt  the  child !  Almost  before  he  knew  it,  he 
was  in  the  ball-room. 

He  had  fancied  Blossom  scorned,  and  doomed  to  sit 
in  a  corner :  on  the  contrary,  she  came  down  the  room, 
at  the  moment  of  his  entrance,  looking  as  fresh  as  the 
rose  in  her  hair.  He  had  come  prepared  to  dare  the 
sneers  of  the  entire  feminine  portion  of  the  garrison,  if 
need  be,  in  her  behalf ;  but  it  seemed  there  was  no  occa- 
sion for  his  services:  and  after  a  slight  greeting  to  the 
girl  and  her  mother,  whom  she  had  joined,  he  passed  on 


192  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

to  the  upper  end  of  the  room.  Poor  Blossom  bit  her 
lip,  and  could  hardly  keep  back  her  tears.  He  had  not 
noticed  the  half-extended  hand,  nor  did  he  dream  that 
the  glow  on  her  face  had  been  called  up  by  the  sight  of 
his  figure  in  the  doorway. 

"  Curse  his  pride !  "  muttered  the  woman,  drawing 
back  into  her  corner.  He  was  like  the  rest  of  them. 

The  captain  passed  on  slowly  up  the  room  to  the 
group  at  the  head,  the  centre  of  which  was  the  major's 
daughter. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  "  chirruped  Miss  Laud,  who 
had  a  young  lieutenant  at  each  elbow,  and  was  making 
eyes  at  a  third  just  behind  her  shoulder.  "  You  don't 
deserve  to  know  that  I  saved  a  waltz  for  you  till  the 
evening  was  half  over." 

"  And  am  I  too  late  to  claim  it  ?  I  have  been  de- 
tained," the  captain  said,  making  a  bold  plunge,  and 
telling  a  lie  in  sheer  desperation. 

"  Entirely  too  late.  You  should  have  come  before, 
sir."  The  girl  could  afford  to  play  the  tyrant  to-night, 
with  half  a  dozen  young  men  hanging  about  her.  "  We 
are  just  going." 

"  Perhaps  Miss  Bryce  will  be  more  indulgent,"  he 
said,  advancing  to  Claudia,  who  strove  to  appear  un- 
conscious and  at  ease,  as  the  gentlemen  about  her  fell 
back  at  this  address. 

Poor  Claudia  would  have  stepped  down  and  out  upon 
the  floor  with  a  happy  heart,  but  for  this  unfortunate 
assertion  of  her  friend,  which  would  make  compliance 
appear  eager.  Why  need  Kitty  have  said  that  they 
were  about  to  go  home?  A  half-hour  longer  would 
make  no  difference,  even  though  it  were  well  on  to- 
ward daylight.  Mrs.  Bryce  had  already  risen.  Claudia 
rose  now,  and  drew  her  lace  shawl  about  her  neck. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  193 

"  Yes,  we  are  just  going,"  she  said.  If  he  would  only 
persist,  she  would  give  way.  Dear  me !  how  gladly  she 
would  have  given  way  !  But  no :  he  stepped  back,  with 
a  bow  and  some  half-intelligible  words  of  regret ;  and 
Mrs.  Bryce  and  her  party  swept  down  the  room,  and 
out.  Their  fine  dresses  touched  Mrs.  Stubbs's  gown  as 
they  passed ;  but  no  one  of  them  bestowed  a  glance  upon 
her  or  upon  the  little  figure  with  frightened  eyes  by  her 
side.  The  woman's  face  grew  dark  as  she  turned  to 
look  after  them. 

"  I'll  be  even  with  you  yet,"  she  muttered  behind  her 
closed  teeth ;  but  still  she  made  no  movement  to  go. 

And,  now  that  the  great  lights  had  departed,  Blossom 
had  no  lack  of  satellites.  Admiration  and  attention 
were  turned  to  her  in  a  way  that  embarrassed  and  al- 
most alarmed  the  child.  The  dancing  still  went  on, 
though  but  feebly  supported,  and  in  time  to  music  that 
lagged,  and  had  lost  its  spirit.  One  after  another,  the 
ladies  were  taking  their  departure.  The  men  straggling 
in  from  the  supper-room  sought  out  and  sued  for  a  pres- 
entation to  the  sutler's  pretty  daughter.  Leaning  over 
her,  they  breathed  bold  compliments  in  her  ears,  too 
strongly  perfumed  with  wine  to  be  acceptable.  Mrs. 
Stubbs  sat  like  a  sphinx,  mute  and  unseeing.  Or  was 
the  woman  flattered  by  this  late  notice  of  the  girl,  who 
smiled,  though  her  lips  trembled,  and  tears  came  into 
her  eyes  ?  Lieutenant  Orme,  at  a  little  distance,  looked 
on,  angry,  and  tempted  to  interfere. 

"  Why  doesn't  she  take  her  daughter  home  ?  "  the 
boy  said  to  himself,  growing  hot  and  cold  by  turns,  as 
the  play  went  on.  "  Good  Heavens !  What  is  the  old 
woman  thinking  of?"  as  Captain  Luttrell  swaggered 
toward  the  group. 


194  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

The  music  still  rose  and  fell  in  voluptuous  cadence ; 
but  one  after  another  the  dancers  fell  off,  and  slipped 
away. 

All  at  once  the  woman  roused  herself. 

"  Eh,  Blossom ! "  she  said,  starting  from  her  stupor  as 
though  she  had  been  dreaming,  and  gazing  with  sudden- 
ly awakened  eyes  upon  the  men  gathered  about  them. 
"  What's  this  ?  It's  time  we  were  going,  child." 

Some  of  the  gay  young  fellows  took  it  up  with  a 
hardly  suppressed  laugh,  repeating  the  girl's  fanciful 
pet  name.  One  boldly  begged  the  privilege  of  bring- 
ing her  shawl.  Another  offered  to  see  her  safely  home. 

"  Stand  out  of  the  way,  will  you  ?  "  hiccoughed  Cap- 
tain Luttrell,  elbowing  himself  to  the  front.  "  She'd 

a  d sight  rather  an  old  friend  'd  serve  her.  Hadn't 

you,  my  dear  ?  "  leaning  down  toward  Blossom. 

"Keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your  head,  or  it'll  be  the 
worse  for  ye,"  retorted  the  widow  angrily,  rising  up. 
There  was  something  almost  menacing  in  the  movement ; 
and  the  little  group  fell  back. 

" but  she's  a  Tartar!"  exclaimed  one  of  the 

visitors  in  a  low  voice. 

"  She's  Tar-t'rus  itself,"  said  Captain  Luttrell,  with  a 
drunken  laugh. 

At  this  instant  Captain  Elyot  came  out  from  the  sup- 
per-room with  one  of  the  visitors. 

"  What's  this  ? "  said  his  companion  ;  but  Captain 
Elyot  did  not  wait  to  respond.  He  pushed  straight 
through  the  little  crowd;  for  everybody  in  the  room 
had  started  forward  at  Mrs.  Stubbs's  upraised  voice. 

"So  you  are  going?  Allow  me,"  and  he  stepped 
directly  before  Captain  Luttrell. 

He  only  partially  comprehended  what  had  occurred ; 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  195 

but  he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  Blossom,  white   and 
tearful,  behind  her  mother's  defiant  form. 
"  I  will  take  you  to  the  dressing-room." 

"  By ,  Elyot,"  said  Captain  Luttrell,  "  what  d'ye 

mean  by  your interference  ?     I  was  just  about  to 

see  these  ladies  home  myself." 

"Stand  out  of  the  way,  sir."  And,  thrusting  him 
aside  with  his  elbow,  the  young  man  sent  the  drunken 
captain  of  cavalry  reeling  to  the  floor,  while  he  con- 
ducted Mrs.  Stubbs  and  her  daughter  to  the  dressing- 
room. 


196  HIS    INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

SKIRMISHES. 

/CAPTAIN  LUTTRELL  had  forgotten  his  wrath  by 
V_y  the  next  morning.  He  had  forgotten,  indeed,  much 
of  what  had  occurred  toward  the  close  of  the  evening 
before,  and  was  somewhat  ashamed  of  the  part  he  had 
played  as  it  was  set  before  him  by  his  friends,  who,  per- 
haps, exaggerated  his  misdemeanors  in  order  to  hide 
their  own.  He  blustered  and  swore,  however,  which 
was  a  very  harmless  way  of  venting  his  anger,  vowing 
that  nothing  but  the  fact  that  he  was  to  leave  at  mid- 
day with  the  troops  ordered  south  prevented  his  de- 
manding an  apology  from  Captain  Elyot.  As  it  was,  he 
should  be  obliged  to  put  aside  personal  affairs  for  the 
time.  He  asserted,  with  a  great  show  of  indignation, 
that  he  had  only  intended  to  be  civil  to  the  widow  and 
her  daughter ;  and,  if  the  former  chose  to  resent  his  well- 
meant  offer  of  service,  it  was  no  fault  of  his,  "  and  no 

reason,  by ,  why  Elyot  should  interfere."     It  was 

at  this  point  in  discussing  the  affair  that  he  allowed 
himself  to  be  soothed,  and  suffered  his  anger  to  cool, 
after  a  list  of  oaths  more  curious  than  intelligible. 

The  story  of  the  little  encounter  spread  through  the 
fort,  and  even  entered  the  major's  house  before  breakfast 
the  next  morning. 


HIS    INHERITANCE.  197 

"  Dear  me !  Have  you  heard  the  news  ?  "  cried  Miss 
Laud,  bursting  into  the  parlor,  where  that  meal  was 
being  set  out,  with  her  hair  in  a  most  unbecoming  twist, 
and  with  a  wrapper  thrown  hastily  about  her  form. 
Jinny  had  brought  the  story,  with  a  jug  of  hot  water, 
that  very  moment  to  her  bedroom,  having  but  just  re- 
ceived it  from  Sergeant  McDougal,  who  had  dropped 
into  the  kitchen  for  a  moment's  gossip. 

The  major  took  his  seat  at  the  table,  entirely  unmoved 
by  this  female  bomb ;  but  Mrs.  Bryce  and  Claudia  ex- 
claimed together :  Of  course  they  had  heard  nothing  at 
all. 

"  There  was  a  brawl  in  the  ball-room  last  night  after 
we  left,"  Miss  Laud  went  on.  "  And  all  about  Mrs. 
Stubbs's  daughter.  I  don't  know  the  particulars,  ex- 
cept that  Captain  Elyot  took  up  her  defence,  fought  a 
dozen  men  single-handed,  and  bore  her  off  in  triumph 
at  last.  I  declare  I  wish  we  had  staid:  it  must  have 
been  as  good  as  a  play." 

"Do  you  hear  that,  Major  Bryce?"  gasped  his  wife. 
Claudia's  emotions  rendered  her  incapable  of  speech. 

But  the  major  burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 

"Not  so  fast  —  not  so  fast,  my  dear,"  he  said  to  their 
guest,  who  had  poured  out  this  startling  story.  "  There 
was  but  one  man  floored,  I  believe ;  and  he  could  hardly 
have  kept  his  feet  under  any  circumstances.  There  was 
no  quarrel  at  all.  Some  of  the  gentlemen  had  taken  too 
much  wine,  and  one  of  them  offered  some  impertinence 
to  Mrs.  Stubbs's  daughter,  which  Elyot  resented,  as 
any  man  of  honor  would :  I'd  have  done  as  much  my- 
self," added  the  stout  major. 

Upon  which  Claudia  found  strength  to  speak. 

"  Papa  is  always  roused  when  any  slight  is  offered  to 


198  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

the  Stubbses,"  she  said  sharply.  Even  her  own  father 
had  gone  over  to  the  enemy.  It  was  more  than  she 
could  bear. 

"Of  course  he  is,"  retorted  the  major  gallantly. 
"  Room  for  the  ladies,  bless  their  hearts !  " 

"  Ladies ! "  cried  Mrs.  Bryce,  coming  to  Claudia's 
assistance.  "  What  did  the  woman  mean  by  thrusting 
herself  and  her  daughter  among  us  last  night  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  retorted  the  major.  "  Perhaps  she  en- 
joys a  bit  of  fun  as  well  as  the  rest  of  you ;  and  the 
little  girl,  —  why  shouldn't  she  go  and  dance  with  the 
best  of  'em  ?  What  were  all  the  young  men  thinking 
about  last  night  ?  I'd  a  mind  to  take  her  out  myself." 

"  That  would  have  been  a  fine  sight,  and  a  pretty 
example  for  a  man  of  your  years  and  in  your  position, 
Major  Bryce,"  said  his  wife  indignantly.  "For  my  part 
I  cannot  see  what  there  is  about  the  girl  to  so  bewitch 
you  all.  To  think  of  Captain  Elyot  spending  evening 
after  evening  there,"  —  which  was  by  no  means  true,  — 
"  to  the  entire  neglect  of  his  old  friends.  Captain  Elyot 
led  about  by  that  dreadful  woman !  and  actually  tak- 
ing it  upon  himself  to  act  the  part  of  protector  to  the 
daughter!  Mrs.  Stubbs  is  a  shrewd  woman.  Oh!  it 
isn't  for  nothing  that  she  invites  him  to  her  house,"  she 
added,  wagging  her  head,  and  looking  as  wise  as  an  owl. 

"  Of  course  '  it  isn't  for  nothing,' "  repeated  the 
major,  with  something  very  like  a  wink  to  little  Miss 
Laud,  who,  having  thus  aroused  a  domestic  storm,  had 
quietly  seated  herself  at  the  breakfast-table.  "  '  It  isn't 
for  nothing'  that  any  of  you  are  so  kind  to  us  poor 
fellows.  Why  shouldn't  she  make  up  to  him  ?  Hasn't 
she  a  daughter  to  provide  for  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us  ? 
And  if  some  fine  young  fellow  with  a  gold  plum  just 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  199 

ready  to  drop  into  his  mouth  should  come  knocking  at 
our  door,  do  you  think  we  should  turn  him  away  ?  No, 
indeed !  We  would  put  on  our  best  bibs  and  tuckers, 
and  meet  him  with  the  sweetest  smile  we  could  call  up, 
and  set  before  him  the  best  there  was  in  the  house,  and 
urge  him  to  come  again  and  again.  Shouldn't  we, 
Claudia?" 

"  If  I  cannot  eat  my  breakfast  without  being  insulted, 
I  had  better  go  away,"  said  Claudia  in  a  choking  voice. 

"  You  don't  know  what  it  is  to  have  daughters  to  look 
out  for,"  cried  the  major's  wife,  forgetting  their  visitor, 
who,  indeed,  was  no  stranger  to  these  little  domestic 
scenes,  and  kept  her  eyes  meekly  dropped  upon  her 
plate. 

"  By ,  I  know  what  it  is  to  support  'em,"  replied 

the  major,  beating  a  retreat,  and  leaving  the  ladies  to 
spend  the  remainder  of  their  wrath  in  tears. 

Even  Jinny  in  the  kitchen  knew  that  there  had  been 
a  quarrel,  and  lingered  over  taking  away  the  breakfast 
things  to  gather  what  she  could  before  returning  to  her 
friend  the  sergeant,  who  had  dropped  in,  ostensibly  to 
light  his  pipe  at  her  fire.  She  and  the  sergeant  had 
already  discussed  the  affair  of  the  ball-room,  and  were 
perfectly  well  aware  of  the  interest  Miss  Claudia  would 
feel  in  Captain  Elyot's  interference.  But  Jinny,  what- 
ever her  natural  preferences  might  be,  was  bound  to 
uphold  the  honor  of  her  young  mistress  and  the  house 
to  which  she  belonged. 

"  Miss  Claudia  bean't  a-goin'  to  set  hersel'  agen  the 
like  o'  the  sutler's  daughter,"  she  said  with  a  toss  of 
her  head.  "  Not  but  that  the  lass  is  a  glide  lass  enow 
in  her  way." 

"  Her  needn't  try,"  retorted  the  sergeant,  who  stood 


200  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

in  the  open  door,  ready  to  leave  at  the  first  signs  of  the 
appearance  of  any  of  the  family.  "  The  little  un's  worth 
two  o'  the  like  o'  she." 

"  Eh !  Whatever  d'ye  mean,  mon !  Miss  Claudia's 
a  fine  young  leddy  as  ye'll  see  in  a  lang  day.  Sic  a 
shape  as  she  has !  An'  she'll  speak  ye  French  like  a 
Frenchifier !  " 

"  Shape  !  "  —  and  the  sergeant  drew  a  long  breath 
through  his  pipe,  emitting  the  smoke  slowly  from  his 
nose  —  "  so's  a  skillaton !  It's  flesh  an'  bluid,  Jinny,  's 
wholesome  t'  look  at.  An'  for  yer  French,  a  man'll  be 
hard  t'  please  who  is  na  conteent  to  be  railed  at  in  his 
ain  tongue." 

This  was  a  proposition  which  Jinny  could  not  refute ; 
and,  as  Mrs.  Bryce's  step  was  heard  approaching,  the 
sergeant  took  himself  off  without  more  words. 

As  for  Mrs.  Bryce,  she  directed  the  ways  of  her 
household  this  morning  with  a  pre-occupied  mind  and 
an  absent  air,  which  Jinny  did  not  fail  to  notice.  The 
major's  wife  was  revolving  a  scheme  which  had  occurred 
to  her  more  than  once  before  this  day.  It  was  quite 
time,  she  argued  with  herself,  that  some  one  took  Mrs. 
Stubbs  in  hand.  If  her  house  was  the  resort  of  the 
officers,  as  Mrs.  Bryce  believed  it  to  be,  (had  not  Jinny 
reported  more  than  once  the  sound  of  music  and  a  blaze 
of  light  from  the  window  of  Blossom's  parlor,  and  at 
midnight  too ! )  it  was  time  that  some  one  put  down 
what  would  soon  become  an  open  scandal.  And  who 
could  so  appropriately  undertake  the  work  as  the  wife 
of  the  commanding  officer  ?  Was  Mrs.  Stubbs  so  igno- 
rant of  the  world  and  its  ways  as  not  to  know  that  she 
would  soon  bring  her  house,  and  her  daughter  as  well, 
into  ill  repute,  if,  indeed,  she  had  not  done  so  already  ? 


HTS   INHERITANCE.  201 

The  major's  house  had  not  been  thronged  with  visitors. 
Mrs.  Bryce's  parlor  was  not  filled  night  after  night  with 
the  idlers  about  the  post,  as  she  fancied  Mrs.  Stubbs's 
to  be.  Claudia  might  be  a  fine  girl,  as  her  maid  had. 
declared,  and  could  boast  even  more  accomplishments 
than  that  faithful  servant  had  vaunted ;  but  there  was 
no  strife  over  her  among  the  young  men.  The  mother 
uttered  a  sigh  over  this  reflection,  forgetting  that  this 
very  circumstance  was  what  she  had  decried  in  the 
sutler's  daughter.  Poor  Mrs.  Bryce !  She  knew,  even 
better  than  her  husband,  what  expensive  luxuries  daugh- 
ters had  become ;  for  upon  her  fell  the  task  of  stretching 
every  penny  to  its  utmost,  and  making  the  most  of  the 
income  from  a  very  small  private  fortune  which  eked  out 
the  major's  pay.  This  pinching  and  devising,  and  turning 
every  way,  had  worn  her  out.  She  would  have  scorned 
the  idea  of  having  schemed  or  laid  snares  in  her  daugh- 
ter's behalf;  but  she  had  put  Claudia  forward  to  the 
best  of  her  ability.  She  had  striven  to  make  her  home 
a  pleasant  place  to  such  of  the  young  men  as  chose 
to  nibble  at  the  innocent  bait  she  offered.  One  after 
another  the  fresh  arrivals  at  the  post  had  frequented 
her  house  for  a  time,  and  then  dropped  off.  The  free, 
rollicking  gossip  and  companionship  by  Stubbs's  fireside 
came  gradually  to  be  preferred  by  each  one  to  the  more 
refined  atmosphere  of  the  major's  parlor.  It  was  mor- 
tifying, at  the  best,  when  the  woman  came  to  realize  it, 
as  she  did  after  a  time ;  but  now  that  the  last,  and  by 
far  the  most  desirable,  of  these  young  men,  had  been 
drawn  away,  not  by  Stubbs's  punch,  but  by  the  supe- 
rior attractions  of  his  daughter  over  her  own,  the 
mother's  heart  rebelled. 

Captain  Elyot  would  never  marry  the  sutler's  daugh- 


202  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

ter.  Of  that  Mrs.  Bryce  felt  assured  in  her  own  mind. 
To  receive  the  frequent  visits,  then,  which  she  believed 
he  still  paid  to  her,  could  be  only  a  disadvantage,  if 
not  worse,  to  the  girl.  Was  it  not  her  duty  to  set  this 
in  its  true  light  before  Mrs.  Stubbs  ?  Some  duties  have 
all  the  sweetness  of  revenge,  and  this  was  one  of  them. 
She  said  nothing  of  her  purpose  to  her  husband,  or  to 
the  two  young  ladies  who  had  settled  themselves  for  a 
long  morning  in  the  parlor,  the  roses  of  which  appeared 
somewhat  faded  by  daylight.  They  had  brought  out 
their  worsted-work,  and,  a  calm  having  succeeded  the 
storm  at  the  breakfast-table,  were  discussing  their  part- 
ners of  the  night  before,  with  an  occasional  yawn  be- 
tween; Miss  Laud,  with  an  eye,  in  the  mean  while, 
upon  the  window,  and  an  ear  for  any  stray  tap  at  the 
door.  There  was  a  possibility  of  a  hurried  call  from 
some  of  these  new  acquaintances  who  were  to  set  off 
for  the  south  at  noon.  But  Claudia  drew  her  little 
blue  shawl  close  about  her  thin  shoulders,  and  bent 
herself  steadily  to  her  work.  "  Two  blues,  three  whites, 
and  a  green :  "  she  counted  her  stitches  carefully,  and 
made  no  mistakes.  The  only  caller  she  cared  to  see 
would  not  come.  She  had  looked  for  him  too  many 
days  already :  why  should  she  waste  her  time  any 
longer  ?  —  as  though  time  were  given  us  to  be  marked 
out  in  black  and  purple,  and  shaded  in  carefully  with 
scarlet  and  blue  and  pink ! 

.  When  Mrs.  Bryce  saw  the  girls  thus  busily  engaged 
for  an  hour  or  two  at  least,  so  that  her  absence  would 
not  be  questioned,  she  wrapped  herself  up  carefully,  as 
though  to  wrap  her  courage  in,  lest  it  should  escape  her, 
and  slipped  out  of  the  house  upon  her  self-appointed 
mission.  The  day  was  clear  and  cold;  and  the  snow 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  203 

creaked  under  her  feet  as  she  followed  the  path  leading 
down  to  the  sutler's  house.  More  than  one  friend 
tapped  on  the  window,  and  beckoned  her  to  come  in, 
as  she  hastened  by;  but  she  shook  her  head.  She 
would  not  be  diverted  from  her  purpose.  About  the 
barracks  there  were  unusual  signs  of  life  this  morn- 
ing :  the  members  of  the  company  which  was  to  leave 
were  making  themselves  ready ;  knapsacks  were  being 
strapped  on,  and  blankets  rolled  up  ;  "  rat-tat-tat-tat "  ! 
sounded  the  drum  as  the  men  wheeled  and  marched 
before  her.  There  was  much  in  this  bustle  of  prepara- 
tion to  harmonize  with  the  mood  of  the  major's  wife. 
She,  too,  was  buckling  on  her  sword,  knowing  that  the 
sutler's  wife  would  not  be  the  mildest  of  adversaries ; 
for,  though  she  was  going  ostensibly  to  offer  advice, 
she  knew  in  her  heart  that  she  should  not  get  off  with- 
out the  clash  of  arms.  Nor  was  she  entirely  assured  in 
her  own  mind  as  to  the  result.  And  it  was  because  of 
this  doubt  that  she  had  concealed  her  proposed  visit 
from  Claudia  and  the  major.  She  could  not  forget,  that, 
in  their  last  encounter,  she  had  been  worsted  by  the 
sutler's  wife. 

She  found  Mrs.  Stubbs  alone  in  the  store.  Perhaps 
the  excitement  aroused  by  the  departure  of  the  troops 
had  made  trade  more  dull  than  usual  this  morning,  or 
it  might  be  that  it  had  exhausted  itself  in  the  prepara- 
tions for  the  ball  the  night  before.  Whatever  the  cause, 
Mrs.  Stubbs  was  quite  at  liberty  to  attend  to  her  visit- 
or. She  came  slowly  down  behind  the  rude  counter, 
with  none  of  the  suave  eagerness  which  an  ordinary 
shopkeeper  displays  at  sight  of  a  customer. 

"  How  can  I  serve  ye,  ma'am  ?  "  she  asked,  with  the 
defiant  meekness  which  she  had  assumed  pf  late  toward 
the  ladies  of  the  army. 


204  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

And  then  Mrs.  Bryce  girded  herself,  and  prepared 
for  the  battle,  adjusted  her  sling,  as  it  were;  for  she 
felt  herself  to  be  no  more  than  a  David  —  stout  woman 
though  she  was,  and  the  major's  wife  too  —  before  this 
Goliath  in  a  dusty  bombazine  gown,  and  with  beruffled 
hair. 

"  I  only  came  in  for  a  little  chat,"  said  the  major's  wife, 
advancing  to  the  counter,  and  crossing  her  hands  upon 
it. 

There  was  dignity  in  the  attitude;  but  there  was 
nothing  friendly  in  it,  nor  in  the  tones  of  her  voice. 
She  spoke  boldly ;  but  her  heart  had  begun  to  fail  her 
already. 

"  I  believe  I  do  not  wish  for  any  thing,  thank  you. 
Or  you  may  give  me  a  paper  of  assorted  needles,  if  you 
please.  I  think  that  is  all,"  she  said. 

But  Mrs.  Stubbs  made  no  movement  toward  comply- 
ing with  this  modest  request,  if  request  it  was. 

"  You  can  say  your  say,  ma'am,"  she  replied,  neither 
offering  her  visitor  a  chair,  nor  unlocking  the  gaunt 
arms  folded  across  the  bosom  of  her  rusty  gown. 

"I  —  I  was  sorry  to  hear  of  the  trouble  in  the  ball- 
room last  night,"  began  Mrs.  Bryce,  plunging  into  the 
middle  of  the  subject,  since  she  must  begin  somewhere. 

"  There  was  no  trouble  at  all,  ma'am,"  said  the  sut- 
ler's widow.  "  Cap'n  Luttrell  forgot  his  manners,  which 
was  nothing  new  for  him,  as  you  may  know;  an'  Cap'n 
Elyot  knocked  him  down." 

She  added  the  last  quietly,  as  though  it  were  a  natu- 
ral sequence,  and  was  moving  away,  when  Mrs.  Bryce 
took  up  the  words.  The  major's  wife  was  accustomed 
to  deference  from  the  people  about  her ;  and  the  dignity 
of  Mrs.  Stubbs's  manner  was  nothing  less  than  premedi- 


.HIS   INHERITANCE.  205 

tated  insult  in  her  eyes.  It  provoked  her  to  wrath. 
Before  she  knew  it,  she  had  let  slip  the  rope  which  held 
her  temper,  and  cast  it  to  the  winds. 

"  Yes,  Captain  Elyot,"  she  repeated,  seizing  upon  his 
name.  "It  is  always  Captain  Elyot:  he  conies  here 
frequently,  I  understand." 

"An'  what  if  he  does?"  asked  the  woman,  with  a 
sudden  intensity  of  heat  in  eye  and  voice. 

It  was  not  true :  that  was  the  sting.  But  why  should 
Mrs.  Bryce  sit  in  judgment  upon  her  visitors  ? 

"  You  need  not  resent  my  words,  Mrs.  Stubbs.  I 
have  a  daughter  of  my  own,  or  I  should  not  have  pre- 
sumed to  interfere  "  (which  was  more  true  than  she  in- 
tended). "  It  is  all  very  well  for  the  young  men  to  be 
spending  their  evenings  here,  very  natural,  I  would  say, 
since  they  have  always  done  so,  and  very  agreeable, 
I  don't  doubt;  but  considering  that  your  daughter  has 
no  natural  protector,  no  father,  did  it  never  occur  to  you 
that  all  this  freedom  of  living  might  occasion  remark?" 

"  Is  it  Cap'n  Elyot  you're  speaking  of,  ma'am  ?  " 

Mrs.  Stubbs's  breath  came  hard  and  fast,  but  she  held 
in  her  wrath.  A  less  pre-occupied  woman  than  the 
major's  wife  would  have  dreaded  the  explosion  that  must 
follow.  But  Mrs.  Bryce  took  heart  at  the  apparently 
innocent  question.  Evidently  the  sutler's  wife  was 
about  to  listen  to  reason. 

"I  did  not  intend  to  call  names,"  she  said  mysteri- 
ously. "  I  only  dropped  in  to  put  you  on  your  guard, 
as  it  were,  against  the  speech  of  people.  I  have  heard 
so  much  of  late !  " 

"  Speak  it  out,  ma'am  :  I  ain't  afraid  to  hear  it.  Per- 
haps you'll  be  good  enough  to  tell  me  just  what  it  is 
you  have  heard." 


206  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

"  It  does  not  matter,"  Mrs.  Brycc  stumbled  on,  finding 
herself  thus  driven  to  a  corner.  "  I  only  desired  to  put 
you  in  mind  of  what  any  woman  must  know,  —  that 
young  men  have  a  way  of  hanging  about  a  girl,  if  she 
is  pretty  and  amiable,  without  any  thought  of  marriage ; 
and  I  fear  our  young  men  are  no  exception  to  this  rule. 
There  is  this  young  man,"  Mrs.  Bryce  went  on,  embold- 
ened by  Mrs.  Stubbs's  silence,  —  "I  need  not  call  his 
name,  —  circumstances  have  thrown  him  into  familiar 
acquaintance  with  your  family.  But  do  not  build  too 
strongly  upon  this.  I  would  not  say  any  thing  against 
him;  but — it  is  not  the  first  time  he  has  fancied  a  face, 
and  forgotten  it." 

Unconsciously  she  showed  her  wound.  But  Mrs. 
Stubbs  was  too  absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts  to  take 
advantage  of  it ;  though  the  truth  of  Mrs.  Bryce's  words 
struck  to  her  heart.  Every  one  knew  that  Captain 
Elyot  had  once  spent  his  idle  hours  at  the  major's,  and 
that  now  he  went  there  no  more.  And  would  this  same 
play  go  on  in  her  own  house  ?  and  would  Blossom  be 
scorned,  in  turn  ?  Had  he  not  already  begun  to  weary 
of  her?  In  the  hurried  retrospect  of  the  moment 
Mrs.  Stubbs  grew  cold  at  heart,  remembering  how  infre- 
quent his  visits  had  been  of  late.  Her  anxiety  rose  to 
a  passion. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  your  soft  words  with  a  sting 
in  'em?"  she  burst  out,  starting  towards  her  visitor, 
who,  entirely  taken  by  surprise  at  this  unexpected 
attack,  made  a  hasty  retreat  towards  the  door.  "  What 
is  it  to  you  who  comes  or  goes  ?  Have  a  care  over  your 
own  daughter,  though  it's  little  enough  you'll  be  troubled 
with  the  young  men  hanging  about  her." 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Bryce  had  found  the  latch  of  the 


HIS    INHERITANCE.  207 

door.  In  that  tolerably  secure  position  she  made  an 
attempt  to  rally  her  forces. 

"  You  will  repent  this,  Mrs.  Stubbs.  I  am  sure  you 
will  repent  this.  I  —  I  shall  speak  to  the  major  "  — 

"  Get  along  with  you ! "  cried  the  angry  woman. 
"The  major'd  never  insult  an  honest  woman  in  her 
own  house.  An'  as  for  the  child,  you're  set  against  her 
with  yer  lies,  —  you  an'  your  white-faced  daughter.  But 
she's  as  good  as  the  best  of  ye ,  an'  equal  to  the  best  of 
ye  she  shall  be  yet,  if  I  die  for't.  Will  ye  never  go  ?  " 

She  made  another  movement  towards  the  major's  wife, 
which  sent  that  zealous  reformer  to  the  path  outside, 
and  home  indeed.  She  almost  believed  that  personal 
violence  had  been  threatened  her,  and  was  hardly  con- 
scious of  her  utter  defeat,  so  thankful  was  she  to  escape 
with  her  life. 

But  as  she  hastened  home,  looking  neither  to  the 
right  nor  to  the  left,  one  other  cause  of  self-gratulation 
occurred  to  her,  and  that  was  that  her  husband  would 
never  know  of  this  visit. 


208  HIS    INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"ARE   THESE  TEARS  FOR  ME?" 

"TTTHEN  the  door  had  closed  upon  the  major's  wife, 
V  V  her  words  burned  in  Mrs.  Stubbs's  ears.  Did 
they  talk  about  the  child  ?  The  woman  laughed  a  bit- 
ter, scornful  laugh.  She  had  been  too  proud  to  defend 
herself  when  accused  of  keeping  an  open  house  to 
whoever  might  come.  The  major,  or  any  one  of  the  offi- 
cers, could  tell  a  different  story.  She  believed  that  Mrs. 
Bryce  knew  to  the  contrary  herself.  It  was  not  for  that 
she  had  come  to  her :  it  was  to  utter  the  hateful  insinu- 
ations in  regard  to  Captain  Elyot ;  and  envy  and  spite 
had  moved  her  to  it.  And  yet  might  not  the  words 
prompted  by  jealousy  be  true  ?  Oh,  how  they  accorded 
with  Mrs.  Stubbs's  own  fears!  She  had  marked  the 
change  in  the  young  man  long  before  this  time.  He  had 
become  silent  and  constrained  in  Blossom's  presence ; 
nor  did  he  frequent  the  house  as  he  had  done  at  first. 
Days  and  even  weeks  went  by,  and  he  paid  them  no 
visit.  In  the  idle  life  at  the  fort,  to  will  was  to  act. 
Negligence  was  indifference.  She  remembered  how 
rumor  had  coupled  his  name  with  Miss  Claudia  the 
winter  before.  She  had  seen  them  together  day  after 
day,  or  watched  him  coming  away  from  the  major's  door. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  209 

And  now  it  was  all  over.  Without  any  apparent  cause 
the  intimacy  had  come  to  an  end.  And  was  it  to  be  so 
with  Blossom,  who  already  watched  for  his  coming,  and 
grew  red  and  pale  at  a  tap  on  the  door  ?  The  mother 
had  marked  it  all,  furious  and  distressed  by  turns. 
Must  she  stand  by  helpless,  and  see  the  child  grow  thin 
and  pale  and  broken-hearted,  as  women  did  who  are  left 
forlorn? — not  women  of  Mrs.  Stubbs's  mould ;  but  Blos- 
som was  of  a  different  type,  as  the  mother  had  discov- 
ered long  ago ;  and  might  she  not  droop  and  even  die 
under  it  ?  Oh,  if  they  were  but  away  from  this  hateful 
place  !  —  anywhere  in  the  wide  world,  only  away  from 
these  people  whom  she  hated,  and  who,  banded  together, 
as  she  believed,  had  set  themselves  against  her  and  the 
child. 

She  moved  about  her  work  with  heavy  feet,  and  drag- 
ging, listless  hands.  It  was  a  dull  day  within  doors ;  and 
there  was  less  than  usual  to  take  her  thoughts  from  this 
subject,  upon  which  they  dwelt  continually  now.  Some- 
times scraps  of  song  stole  through  the  closed  door  from 
the  room  where  Blossom  sat  alone.  Mrs.  Stubbs  paused 
to  listen.  They  were  not  the  merry  songs,  full  of  "  tir- 
ra-la-la,"  over  which  she  and  the  lieutenant  had  spent 
so  many  happy  hours,  but  songs  of  sentiment,  a  feeble 
sentiment  perhaps  (that  in  the  girl's  heart,  it  may  be, 
was  hardly  deeper)  ;  but  the  sad  refrain  stirred  the 
mother  anew.  It  broke  off  in  something  like  a  sob,  she 
fancied.  And  did  the  child  cry  for  him,  —  for  this  man 
who  held  her  in  such  light  esteem  ?  Or  were  her  tears 
for  the  boy  who  was  to  ride  away  to-day?  Not  for  him. 
The  woman  put  that  thought  away  at  once.  She  had 
seen  enough  the  evening  before  to  convince  her  that 
young  Orme  held  no  precious  corner  in  Blossom's  affec- 


210  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

tions.  Suddenly  a  burst  of  martial  music  shook  the 
little  log-house.  Mrs.  Stubbs  threw  up  the  window,  and 
leaned  out.  The  winter  sun  shone  far  and  near  over 
snow-white,  monotonous  landscape,  and  upon  the  com- 
pany of  men  marching  out  and  away  to  an  unknown 
fate.  A  sensation  of  stifling  oppressed  the  woman. 
Some  old  memory  awoke  in  her  at  this  sudden  burst  of 
bugle  and  drum.  Oh,  to  be  shut  up  here,  despised  and 
hating,  when  all  the  world  lay  stretched  out  just  beyond 
these  ugly  walls  !  Other  windows  were  thrown  open  ; 
forms  went  hurrying  by.  The  band  played  "  Garry 
Owen,"  amid  cheers  and  shouts  and  waving  hands. 
Only  this  one  figure  in  its  pall-like  dress  stared  fixed 
and  unmoved  by  all  the  commotion,  neither  laughing 
with  those  who  were  gay  at  heart,  nor  weeping  with  the 
women  left  behind. 

"  She's  nae  like  t'  mortal  flesh  ! "  exclaimed  Sergeant 
McDougal  to  Jinny,  who  had  run  out,  with  the  skirt  of 
her  gown  thrown  over  her  head,  to  see  the  men  march 
away.  "  They  do  say  she's  awfu'  strange  these  days 
since  Stubbs  died.  I'd  no  like  to  get  the  cast  o'  her 
ee ;  "  and  the  sergeant  stepped  back  out  of  the  range  of 
that  awful  member. 

"  The  deil's  in  her,  that's  a',''  replied  Jinny  senten- 
tiously. 

"  An'  what's  that  but  an  evil  ee  ?  "  returned  the  man. 
"Mind  she  don't  turn  it  on  ye,  lass ;  "  and  he  pulled  her 
away  from  before  the  house.  A  white  handkerchief 
fluttered  a  moment  at  the  parlor-window  as  young 
Orme  rode  by.  Blossom  stood  at  the  window,  with 
tears  in  her  eyes,  which  she  made  no  effort  to  conceal. 
Another  figure,  taller  and  with  a  more  martial  air,  rode 
by  the  lieutenant's  side.  Captain  Elyot  bowed  low,  and 


HIS    INHERITANCE.  211 

removed  his  hat,  as  the  lieutenant  doffed  his  own  and 
smiled  a  pitiful  smile  that  nearly  broke  his  heart,  in 
reply  to  Blossom's  salutation.  The  boy  had  not  trusted 
himself  to  say  adieu. 

"  I  should  only  make  a  fool  of  myself,  and  it  is  better 
to  —  she  will  never  know,"  he  said. 

There  were  no  colors  flying  at  the  sutler's ;  but  Blos- 
som's cheeks  hung  out  a  flag  for  a  moment  as  Captain 
Elyot  took  off  his  hat ;  but  her  thoughts  followed  the 
boy,  who  was  riding  away,  with  a  tender  regret  it  is 
sweet  to  have  inspired.  She  little  dreamed  that  he  had 
laid  his  heart  at  her  feet.  She  never  knew  to  the  day 
of  her  death  of  the  boyish  love  she  had  aroused ;  but  he 
stood  first  in  her  thoughts  always  among  the  friends 
who  in  life  go  riding  out  into  the  sunshine  with  flying 
colors  and  beating  drums,  leaving  our  hearts  sorrowful 
and  heavy. 

"  Good-by,  good-by ! "  he  said  to  one  and  another  as 
he  rode  slowly  out  and  away ;  but  he  had  no  word  for 
Blossom.  We  give  words  to  those  we  care  least  for : 
tears  and  heart-aches,  and  smiles  sadder  than  tears,  are 
for  those  we  love. 

"  Do  you  repent  ?  "  asked  the  captain.  "  I'm  afraid 
it's  too  late  to  do  any  thing  for  you,  boy ;  but  I  wish  I 
were  going  in  your  place." 

"  Repent  ?  No."  But  the  landscape  blurred  before 
the  young  lieutenant's  eyes.  "If  I  staid,  I  should 
make  a  fool  of  myself  very  likely."  Then  it  came  out 
almost  with  a  sob,  "  I  tried  —  last  night." 

The  captain  turned  his  face,  but  not  his  eyes,  toward 
him.  He  felt  the  hot  blood  fly  to  his  cheeks. 

"Well." 

"  She  didn't  understand,  she  hardly  heard.    I  was  talk- 


212  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

ing  about  my  going  away ;  and,  Elyot,''  —  it  was  mor- 
tifying ;  but  this  was  one  of  those  last  moments  when 
men  speak  the  truth,  without  sparing  themselves, — 
"  she  was  not  listening  to  me  at  all.  And  then  I  knew 
it  was  all  over." 

"  Perhaps  you  were  mistaken.  Why,  man,  what  did 
you  expect  ?  Her  silence  "  — 

"  It  wasn't  that  she  was  silent.  But  what's  the  use  ? 
A  man  knows  when  he's  beaten,  and  there's  an  end  of 
it.  Don't,  Elyot :  I  can't  bear  to  talk  of  it.  But  do 
you  remember  what  I  said  long  ago,  the  first  time  we 
spoke  of  this?  Well,  that's  the  truth  of  it.  I  knew 
it  then:  I'm  sure  of  it  now.  There,  God  bless  you, 
old  fellow !  You  needn't  stay  away  any  longer  on  my 
account:  only  don't  say  a  word  to  me  now;  I  can't 
bear  it."  And,  touching  his  horse  with  his  spurs,  the 
boy  rode  on  alone. 

Mrs.  Stubbs,  leaning  out  from  her  window,  silent  and 
spectre-like,  had  been  more  observant  than  the  by- 
standers knew.  She  had  seen  the  two  heads  uncovered 
before  the  window  from  which  Blossom  was,  doubtless, 
making  her  adieus  to  her  friends.  The  woman  fol- 
lowed the  two  figures,  riding  side  by  side,  with  her 
baleful  eyes. 

"  Ay,  ride  away,"  she  said  between  her  shut  teeth, 
letting  her  gaze  rest  upon  Captain  Elyot,  —  "ride  away 
without  a  thought  of  them  that's  looking  after  ye,  and 
some  day  ye'll  be  riding  away  for  good  and  all;  and 
then  what'll  become  o'  the  child  ?  " 

Captain  Elyot  came  back,  after  an  hour  or  two,  alone, 
his  horse  covered  with  foam,  as  though  it  had  been 
hard  ridden;  and,  throwing  the  bridle  to  a  servant,  he 
strolled  into  the  store.  It  was  the  loungiug-place  of  the 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  213 

officers  who  were  debarred  the  privilege  of  entering 
the  parlor  in  these  days  of  Mrs.  Stubbs's  undivided 
sway ;  and  usually  a  group  of  men  were  gathered  about 
the  little  round  table  in  one  corner,  or  formed  an  effect- 
ual screen  for  the  red-hot  stove ;  but  this  morning  Mrs. 
Stubbs  was  left  to  her  own  society.  Outside  events 
had  conspired  to  draw  away  the  usual  frequenters  of 
the  place.  She  gave  but  a  cool  nod  of  welcome  to  her 
visitor  now.  But  Mrs.  Stubbs's  moods  were  altogether 
too  varied  and  inexplicable  to  allow  of  their  being  the 
subject  of  inquiry ;  and  the  young  man,  engrossed  with 
his  own  thoughts,  hardly  noticed  the  change  in  her 
manner. 

"  So  they're  off,"  he  said,  half  to  himself.  "  I  rode 
the  first  mile  or  two  with  them,  and  wished  I  were 
going  the  whole  distance." 

"Danger  and  death  come  quick  enough,  without 
wanting  to  go  to  meet  'em,"  replied  the  woman. 

"  I  suppose  so,  and  I've  no  especial  desire  for  either ; 
but  —  I  believe  I  hated  to  have  the  boy  go ; "  and  the 
captain  turned  away  abruptly,  and  stared  out  at  the 
window. 

The  woman  watched  him  with  eyes  sharp  as  a  lancet. 
He  had  a  kind  heart  toward  that  smooth-faced  boy. 
She  had  probed  that  far  without  difficulty ;  but  was  it 
not  as  the  major's  wife  had  said?  Already  he  was 
wishing  himself  away.  Better  that  he  should  go,  and 
make  an  end  of  it  all.  Better  that  there  should  be  an 
end  to  his  visits,  to  his  familiar  intercourse  with  Blossom, 
here  and  now.  There  was  a  kind  of  bitter  pleasure  in 
taking  matters  into  her  own  hands,  and  sending  him 
from  her  house  before  he  entirely  took  himself  away. 
As  she  watched  him,  these  half-formed  thoughts  passed 


214  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

through  her  mind,  and  hardened  into  a  resolution. 
Then  she  spoke,  — 

"  I've  got  something  t'  say  t'  ye,  Cap'n  Elyot." 

He  turned  from  the  window  with  his  own  reverie 
still  dimming  his  eyes  and  clouding  his  perceptions. 
She  had  come  to  him  before  now  for  advice  in  regard 
to  her  affairs,  —  more  to  tempt  him  with  a  show  of  her 
means  than  because  she  valued  his  opinion.  It  was 
that,  or  perhaps  a  bit  of  garrison  gossip,  which,  in  genial 
moods,  Mrs.  Stubbs  was  not  above  retailing.  He  even 
fancied,  with  a  glow  at  his  heart,  that  it  might  be  of 
Blossom  she  was  about  to  speak.  He  was  ashamed  to 
remember  how  hard  and  fast  he  had  ridden  back  here, 
to  Blossom's  very  door,  after  leaving  his  friend;  how 
eager  he  had  been  to  put  himself  at  once  in  the  way  of 
temptation,  now  that  he  was  absolved  from  his  promise 
to  the  lieutenant.  For  a  temptation  he  felt  it  to  be 
to  venture  into  Blossom's  presence,  since  he  was  by  no 
means  sure  that  he  wanted  to  marry  Mrs.  Stubbs's 
daughter.  It  was  partly  this  dissatisfaction  with  himself 
which  had  made  him  wish  he  might  have  accompanied 
his  friend. 

"Yes,  I've  got  something  to  say  to  ye,"  repeated 
Mrs.  Stubbs,  bracing  herself  to  utter  what  was  not 
easy  to  utter  without  anger  or  provocation.  "I've 
been  thinkin',  Cap'n  Elyot,  that  it's  all  very  well  for 
you  to  be  payin'  your  visits  to  Blossom,  an'  bringin'  her 
books  an'  trinkets  I've  no  name  for.  I  ain't  the  one  to 
be  unthankful  for  kindness  t'  the  child  (the  Lord  knows 
it's  little  enough  of  it  she's  had  here) ;  but  it's  set  folks' 
tongues  awaggin',  an'  so  there  may  as  well  be  an  end 
t'  it." 

She  had  worked  herself  into  a  state  of  excitement 


HTS  INHERITANCE.  215 

almost  as  effective  as  wrath,  by  her  little  speech  which 
had  had  a  still  more  startling  effect  upon  her  listener. 
He  was  dumb  with  astonishment. 

"  But,  Mrs.  Stubbs,"  he  began  after  a  moment,  grop- 
ing about  blankly,  and  trying  to  stagger  up  after  this 
thunderbolt. 

His  visits  to  Blossom !  Why,  he  had  scarcely  seen 
the  girl  for  weeks  !  And  they  talked  about  it ! 

"  Who  has  talked  about  it?  Who  has  been  putting 
such  nonsense  into  your  head  ? "  he  asked  angrily. 
"  Why,  Mrs.  Stubbs,  I  had  not  seen  your  daughter  for 
a  month,  until  last  night." 

"  It  may  be  nonsense  to  you,  Cap'n  Elyot,"  returned 
the  woman  in  a  hard  voice ;  "  an  so  I  think  ye'd  best 
be  going  your  way,  without  regard  to  me  and  mine. 
There's  girls  enough  as  would  be  glad  to  see  your  hand- 
some face.  Yes,  it's  nonsense  to  you,  I  don't  doubt," 
she  repeated,  growing  angry.  Did  not  these  very  words 
of  his  show  how  lightly  he  esteemed  the  girl  ?  "  It's 
always  nonsense  to  such  as  you ;  but  it  might  be  life 
and  death  to  the  child." 

The  hot  blood  burned  in  the  man's  face.  Was  it 
true  ?  Did  even  the  mother  believe  that  the  child  was 
not  indifferent  to  him  ? 

"  And  did  you  think  that  I  could  harm  a  hair  of  her 
head  ?  Why,  woman  "  — 

The  truth  almost  flew  from  his  lips. 

"  Men  like  you  never  mean  any  harm." 

A  fire,  long  smothered,  which  no  deed  or  word  of  his 
had  kindled,  burst  from  the  woman's  heart. 

"  I've  seen  the  like  of  you  before  now,"  she  said. 
"  You've  a  kind  word,  and  a  soft  word,  an'  a  way  with 
ye  that  'ud  wile  a  woman's  soul  out  of  her  eyes ;  an' 


216  HTS   INHERITANCE. 

then  ye're  up  an'  away,  without  a  thought  o'  the  break- 
in'  hearts  ye  leave  behind  ye.  D'ye  think,  man,  I 
a'n't  had  tears  o'  my  own  to  cry  when  nobody 
cared  for  'em  ?  Though,  God  forgive  me !  I'd  forgotten 
it  all  years  ago.  An'  she's  not  like  one  who  could  laugh, 
and  swear  maybe  at  the  worst.  She's  a  soft  little 
thing,  with  a  heart  as  would  break  if  ye  laid  yer  finger 
heavy  on  it." 

"  Who  has  put  such  folly  into  your  head  ?  "  burst  out 
Captain  Elyot  in  his  wrath.  "  As  God  is  my  judge,  I 
have  felt  only  respect  and  affection  for  her ;  and  I  will 
hear  from  her  own  lips  who  has  lied  so  to  you  both." 

And,  before  Mrs.  Stubbs  could  realize  what  he  was 
about  to  do,  he  had  struck  with  a  heavy  hand  upon  the 
door  opening  into  Blossom's  parlor.  He  hardly  waited 
for  the  startled  response  which  followed,  but  pushed 
the  door  open,  and  stepped  into  the  room. 

"What  does  it  mean?"  he  asked,  taking  Blossom's 
hands,  from  which  her  work  had  fallen  as  she  started 
from  her  seat  at  his  abrupt  entrance.  "  Who  has  been 
talking  to  your  mother  about  me?  " 

But  Blossom's  face  showed  only  perplexity  and  con- 
fusion at  this  sudden  attack. 

"She  says  that  I  am  not  to  come  here  any  more; 
that  I  am  never  to  see  you  again,"  the  captain  went  on 
in  a  loud  voice.  "  Is  this  true,  Blossom  ?  And  do  you 
send  me  away?" 

"  I  ?  "  And  Blossom  threw  a  bewildered  glance  toward 
her  mother,  who  appeared  like  a  black  spectre  in  the 
doorway. 

Blossom's  face  grew  white  as  death. 

"  What  is  it  ?  I  cannot  bear  it,"  she  said  in  a  faint 
voice. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  217 

"  I  told  you  so,"  cried  the  woman,  springing  forward. 
But  Captain  Elyot  put  her  back,  and  took  the  girl  in 
his  arms. 

"  Does  it  hurt  you  that  I  am  to  go  away  ?  Are  these 
tears  for  me  ?  Please  God  they  are  the  last  you  shall 
shed  for  me,  dear  little  heart ;  for  nobody  shall  send  me 
away ! " 


218  HIS  INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

CLAUDIA'S  SONG. 

are  times  when  every  thing  seems  to  tend 
-*-  toward  one  result ;  adverse  circumstances,  as  well 
as  strivings  and  prayers,  acting  as  levers  and  pulleys  and 
beams  to  bring  about  what  we  have  never  desired.  We 
work  with  our  might,  and,  lo !  the  one  thing  we  have 
never  wished  for  comes  to  pass.  We  use  all  our  strength 
against  it ;  and  that  which  we  have  tried  to  avert  falls 
upon  us  at  last,  our  very  efforts  having  only  hastened 
the  end.  It  is  enough  to  make  one  believe  in  fate,  or, 
better  still,  in  Providence,  which  sees  beyond  our  short 
vision,  and  takes  in  all,  while  we  strive  but  for  a  part. 

Something  like  this  Mrs.  Bryce  felt  when  she  learned, 
as  she  did  before  many  days,  that  Captain  Elyot  was 
going  to  marry  the  sutler's  daughter.  Her  unfortu- 
nate interference  must  have  helped  it  on.  The  cap- 
tain had  not  made  love  to  Blossom  at  last  at  the  top 
of  his  voice,  and  with  every  door  open,  without  some 
passing  ear  catching  his  protestations ;  and  the  major's 
wife  knew  that  she  had  precipitated  him  into  this  folly. 
He  had  stood  upon  the  brink  before  her  ill-judged  visit ; 
but  how  many  men  have  occupied  that  precarious  posi- 
tion, and  have  safely  retreated !  But  she  had  pushed 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  219 

him  over.  And  then  she  rejoiced  that  the  major  would 
never  know  of  her  visit  to  Mrs.  Stubbs.  It  was  all  that 
remained  to  rejoice  over ;  and  even  to  this  she  brought 
very  few  timbrels  or  harps.  Nor  would  Claudia  know 
that  she  had  made  an  effort  in  her  behalf.  But  she  had 
done  her  duty,  and  this  reflection  gave  her  some  little 
satisfaction.  The  fact  that  nothing  but  confusion  and 
disappointment  had  come  of  it  only  brought  that  resig- 
nation to  her  so  natural  to  women,  and  so  very  sensible, 
in  fact  for  everybody,  when  there  is  really  nothing 
more  to  be  done. 

"  It  was  all  her  own  fault,"  Miss  Laud  said  to  herself; 
for  there  was  no  one  else  with  whom  she  could  commune 
upon  this  topic.  Claudia  was  out  of  the  question ;  and 
it  was  to  Claudia  she  referred.  Oh,  if  the  Fates  had 
but  put  these  threads  into  her  hands,  the  result  would 
have  been  different  indeed  I  Miss  Laud  soliloquized.  She 
was  going  away.  An  opportunity  had  offered,  and  an 
escort  was  provided  for  her  to  return  to  her  home  in  the 
States ;  and  the  young  woman  was  not  sorry  to  set  out. 
The  visions  of  conquest  and  glory  with  which  she  had 
arrived  at  Fort  Atchison  had  never  been  realized,  nor 
had  her  friendship  for  the  major's  daughter  been  able  to 
bear  the  strain  which  isolation  from  the  world  and  con- 
stant companionship  had  put  upon  it.  Claudia  bemoaned 
her  departure,  as  in  politeness  bound ;  but  the  tears  she 
shed  over  it  lacked  the  sincerity  of  those  which  dropped 
in  secret  over  the  news  of  the  approaching  marriage. 
They  were  not  many,  and  they  were  soon  wiped  away ; 
for  Claudia  was  of  a  practical  turn  of  mind.  Out- 
wardly she  had  received  this  news  with  an  indifference 
which  astonished  her  friend.  But  pride  had  come  in  at 
the  death  of  her  hopes ;  and  it  was  almost  a  relief  to 
know  the  worst. 


220  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

Captain  Elyot  and  Blossom  were  not  married  at  once, 
but  before  the  spring  had  fairly  brushed  away  the  snow 
from  the  gulches  by  the  river.  By  this  time,  the  new 
sutler  had  arrived ;  and  Mrs.  Stubbs's  occupation  was 
gone.  He  was  a  dashing  young  fellow,  with  airs  and 
ways,  and  tricks  of  trade,  which  set  the  woman  quite 
aghast ;  but,  as  he  had  no  family,  she  and  Blossom  were 
free  to  remain  in  the  house  as  long  as  they  chose,  which 
was  only  until  after  the  wedding.  Captain  Elyot  was 
already  preparing  a  home  for  his  bride  ;  and  Mrs.  Stubbs 
could  not  be  separated  from  Blossom.  It  was,  perhaps, 
because  the  wedding  followed  so  soon  after  the  announce- 
ment of  the  engagement,  that  none  of  the  ladies  at  the 
post  found  time  to  call  upon  the  girl  who  was  presently 
to  take  her  place  among  them.  Every  one,  from  the 
major's  wife  down,  maintained  a  disagreeable  silence  in 
regard  to  the  affair  whenever  Captain  Elyot  appeared, 
—  a  silence  which  could  only  be  interpreted  as  disapprov- 
al. It  was  from  his  male  friends  alone  that  he  received 
congratulations.  He  would  gladly  have  dispensed  with 
them  altogether ;  yet  their  absence  made  him  both  angry 
and  ill  at  ease. 

He  was  utterly  unconscious  of  the  interest  Mrs.  Bryce 
had  taken  in  his  affairs.  Mrs.  Stubbs  was  the  last  per- 
son in  the  world  to  own  that  her  triumph  was  due  to 
the  interference  of  the  major's  wife ;  nor  did  he  dream 
that  Claudia  had  any  cause  of  complaint  against  him. 
He  had  been  remiss  in  paying  his  visits  there,  and  a 
slight  coolness  had  followed  in  consequence.  But  he  had 
never  doubted  for  a  moment  that  it  was  in  his  power  to 
place  himself  upon  the  old  footing,  if  he  chose  to  do  so ; 
and  some  such  desire  awoke  within  him  now.  He  was 
very  much  in  love.  He  did  not  by  any  means  repent  of 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  221 

the  step  he  had  taken :  it  was  for  Blossom's  sake  that 
he  desired  to  renew  his  friendship  with  the  major's 
family,  in  order  that  these,  his  oldest  friends  at  the  post, 
might  rejoice  with  him  in  his  happiness.  The  wedding 
was  to  be  a  most  quiet  affair.  It  could  not  be  otherwise ; 
since  Blossom  had  no  friends  to  invite,  arid  Captain 
Elyot's  would  hardly  have  come  for  the  asking. 

A  few  nights  before  the  event,  he  dropped  in  at  the 
major's.  He  was  most  graciously  received.  Nothing 
could  be  more  affable  than  Miss  Claudia's  manner. 

"And  how  are  you  to-night,  Captain  Elyot?  "  The 
major's  wife  rose  with  some  difficulty.  She  was  quite 
stout,  and  by  no  means  so  agile  as  she  had  been  once ; 
but  she  gave  him  both  her  hands.  "  How  kind  of  you 
to  look  in  on  us  in  the  storm !  "  for  the  rain  fell  heavily 
outside. 

Claudia  offered  him  but  one  hand ;  but  the  polite  smile 
that  went  with  it  made  it  as  good  as  two. 

"  There  seems  to  be  an  end  to  the  winter  at  last,"  the 
major's  wife  went  on.  "  Still  the  air  is  raw  and  chill. 
Draw  your  chair  closer  to  the  fire,  and  let  me  call  Jinny 
to  bring  more  wood ; "  and  Mrs.  Bryce  bustled  up  with  a 
fine  show  of  hospitable  feeling,  and  slipped  out  of  the 
room  under  this  pretext.  How  did  she  know  that  the 
captain  had  not  a  word  to  say  to  Claudia  ?  What  if  he 
had  repented,  after  all  ?  Though  this  could  hardly  be, 
since  the  chaplain's  wife  had  told  her  that  the  services 
of  her  husband  had  been  engaged  for  Friday,  which  was 
only  two  days  away.  To  think  of  their  choosing  a  Fri- 
day !  And  the  major's  wife,  who  had  not  been  to  call 
Jinny  at  all,  tut  stood  shivering  with  cold  in  the  little 
passage  leading  to  the  kitchen,  set  her  wits  to  work  to 
determine  what  catastrophe  was  most  likely  to  follow 


222  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

such  a  disregard  of  the  oracles.  No  :  it  was  hardly  pos- 
sible that  he  had  come  to  say  he  repented,  though  she 
remembered  a  cavalry  captain  upon  the  South  Platte 
who  had  changed  his  mind  at  the  last  moment,  when 
the  chaplain  stood  waiting  in  the  next  room  with  his  book 
in  his  hand.  But  something  had  come  to  light  in  regard 
to  the  girl;  and  Mrs.  Bryce  thought,  with  an  uncon- 
scious sigh,  that  it  was  not  at  all  probable  that  any  thing 
would  come  to  light  in  regard  to  Blossom.  Nothing 
could  be  said  against  her,  so  far  as  she  knew,  in  spite  of 
her  officious  warning  to  Mrs.  Stubbs.  But  this  only 
made  it  the  worse.  And  this  girl,  sitting  passive  and 
meek,  had  gathered  in  her  harvest,  while  she,  Mrs.  Bryce, 
had  striven  and  toiled,  and  almost  prayed,  and  had  reaped 
nothing  at  all.  The  major's  wife  wiped  a  tear  from  the 
corner  of  her  eye,  and  then  went  off  in  search  of  Jinny 
and  the  firewood. 

"  Come,  come,  Jinny,"  she  called  in  a  loud,  cheerful 
voice  upon  her  return,  when  her  hand  was  on  the  latch 
of  the  parlor-door.  After  all,  there  was  a  chance  that 
something  had  been  said  in  her  absence. 

But  any  hope  which  she  had  nursed  in  that  little,  cold, 
dark  passage,  died  within  her  when  she  entered  the  room. 
She  might  as  well  have  staid  and  made  herself  comfort- 
able ;  for  nothing  had  come  of  her  going  away,  she  saw 
at  once.  Claudia  and  her  visitor  sat  as  she  had  left  them, 
on  either  side  of  the  deadened  fire.  Claudia's  voice  rang 
out  gayly  as  she  opened  the  door ;  but  the  mother  knew 
that  the  girl  had  pulled  at  the  rope  with  an  effort  to 
make  it  do  so. 

The  conversation  had  been  of  the  most  commonplace 
order. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  inconsolable  without  your  friend. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  223 

What  a  bright  little  thing  she  is ! "  the  captain  had  said. 
And  Miss  Claudia  replied  that  she  was  indeed  quite 
desolate  without  Kitty,  who  had  set  off  for  the  States  a 
few  days  before,  and  who  was,  to  be  sure,  a  very  "  bright 
little  thing."  Oh !  was  she  not  ?  "  and  deep  and  sly," 
she  thought  in  her  heart.  But  she  was  entirely  too  con- 
scious of  her  limitations  to  be  entirely  at  ease.  To  the 
past  she  could  not  refer ;  to  the  future  she  would  not,  — 
at  least  to  any  future  in  which  Captain  Elyot  had  an 
interest;  and  the  present  time  at  the  dull  little  fort 
afforded  but  few  topics  of  interest. 

"  I  shall  not  have  a  penny  to  my  purse,"  she  said  at 
last  with  a  laugh,  "  if  the  new  sutler  continues  as  he  has 
begun.  I  cannot  pass  the  door,  mamma  knows."  And 
Mrs.  Bryce  shook  her  head  with  a  mock  sigh,  which 
might  have  been  real,  since  she  did  know  to  her  sor- 
row. "  They  are  such  artful  creatures !  these  trading- 
people,"  Claudia  went  on,  with  an  air  of  innocence. 
"  They  discover  their  victims  at  once.  My  purse,  before 
he  had  been  here  a  week,  was  entirely  at  the  mercy  of 
this  Blibbins,  Blifkins,  or  whatever  he  is  called." 

This  was  possibly  a  little  sword-practice  in  Claudia : 
she  was  trying,  perhaps,  to  see  how  nearly  she  could 
approach  the  captain  without  making  him  wince.  And 
he  did  wince,  though  he  tried  to  stand  up  manfully 
before  her. 

"  I  suppose  they  are  a  good  deal  like  other  people," 
he  said ;  but  he  was  ill  at  ease,  and  she  saw  it,  and  re- 
joiced. 

"Perhaps  so."  She  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  a 
grimace,  as  though  this  were  a  question  in  natural  his- 
tory she  did  not  care  to  pursue.  "I  brought  home  a 
roll  of  music  last  night  to  try.  There  was  such  a  pretty 


224  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

song ! "  and  she  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  and  picked 
up  her  guitar  from  the  floor  and  the  corner  behind  her. 
She  laid  it  across  her  knee,  and  turned  the  keys,  and 
tried  its  tone,  with  fingers  very  slim  and  white  pressing 
the  strings.  The  song  was  a  simple  thing,  —  something 
of  love  and  constancy,  set  to  a  minor  key,  which  makes 
the  love  seem  always  stronger,  and  the  constancy  more 
abiding.  It  touched  the  heart  of  Captain  Elyot,  though 
he  forgot  the  singer.  He  listened  with  a  rapt  face,  and 
eyes  into  which  the  tears  started.  It  was  a  very  pretty 
and  effective  move  on  Claudia's  part,  and  much  like  a 
play,  where  the  heroine  goes  off  at  last  to  tender  and 
appropriate  music ;  only  that  the  dying  heroine  does  not 
usually  play  her  own  accompaniment ! 

Perhaps  Claudia  realized  that  she  was  to  pass  out  of 
the  young  man's  life  with  this  night  and  this  little  song ; 
for  she  threw  into  it  a  strength  of  expression  rare  to  her, 
and  almost  too  great  for  the  shallow  words  to  carry.  The 
major's  wife  moved  out  from  the  glare  of  the  firelight, 
and  wiped  her  eyes  slyly  as  Claudia,  her  face  thrown 
back,  and  softly  flushed  almost  to  beauty,  sang,  — 

"Tender  and  true,  adieu,  adieu." 

The  poor  little  song  had  many  tongues.  It  said  one 
thing  to  Claudia,  and  quite  another  to  Captain  Elyot, 
and  even  found  a  voice  in  Mrs.  Bryce's  heart.  When  it 
was  over,  the  hush  that  speaks  louder  than  bells  fell  on 
the  three.  Then,  after  a  moment,  Captain  Elyot  rose 
to  go. 

"  Thanks,"  he  said  simply  to  Claudia ;  but  the  glow 
on  his  face  and  the  deep  light  in  his  eyes  said  more 
than  words.  Then  he  turned  to  the  major's  wife :  "  I 
believe  it  is  no  secret  that  I  am  to  be  married  ou 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  225 

Friday,"  he  went  on  in  a  slightly  embarrassed  voice. 
"  If  you  and  the  major  would  come  round  at  noon,  I 
should  be  very  glad.  You  will  meet  no  one  but  the 
parties  most  interested,"  he  added,  with  a  blush  and  a 
laugh.  "And  Miss  Claudia  too.  Pardon  the  awk- 
wardness of  the  invitation :  it  has  with  me  the  disad- 
vantage of  novelty.  I  met  the  major  on  my  way  here, 
and  he  was  so  good  as  to  promise  he  would  look  in."  He 
did  not  say  where :  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  utter 
Mrs.  Stubbs's  name.  Claudia's  sword-practice  had  been 
even  better  than  she  knew. 

Mrs.  Bryce  glanced  quickly  at  her  daughter,  whose 
face  showed  nothing  at  all.  She  stood,  with  her  hands 
crossed,  and  resting  upon  her  guitar,  her  eyes  gazing 
quietly  into  the  fire,  almost  as  though  she  had  not 
heard  him. 

" I  have  asked  no  one  but  you,"  he  went  on :  "I  could 
not  forget,"  he  broke  out  impulsively,  "  that  you  were 
my  first  friends  here."  The  quiet,  homelike  air  of  the 
room,  the  little  song,  had  touched  a  spring  in  memory : 
all  the  time  between  dropped  away.  They  had  been 
his  good,  true  friends,  whom  he  had  neglected  a  little 
of  late. 

The  woman's  heart  yearned  over  the  handsome  young 
fellow,  towering  above  her,  who  had  grasped  her  hand 
as  he  spoke.  Oh,  how  she  would  have  rejoiced  in  him, 
had  he  chosen  a  wife  here,  instead  of  .among  those  low 
people !  But  he  could  be  nothing  to  her  now. 

^  I  always  try  to  be  a  friend  to  the  young  men,  if 
they  will  give  me  an  opportunity,"  she  said.  The 
words  chilled  him,  though  they  were  uttered  kindly 
enough.  "  And  I  shall  be  happy  to  be  present  at  your 
marriage,  of  course.  I  am  sure  it  was  very  kind  in  you 


226  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

to  remember  us,  and  I  hope  you  may  never  repent  the 
step  you  are  about  to  take."  There  was  something  in 
the  tone  of  her  voice  which  seemed  to  imply  that  he 
might  repent  it.  She  had  not  intended  it ;  but  the  last 
moment  had  dragged  the  truth  to  the  surface. 

"Good-by."  And  Claudia  gave  him  her  hand:  it 
was  very  cold.  "  And  you  will  come  ?  "  It  was  hard 
if  his  friends  would  not  rejoice  with  him.  But  Miss 
Bryce  did  not  seem  to  have  heard  the  question,  put 
with  much  less  assurance  than  he  had  used  at  first. 
A  chill  like  that  in  the  air  outside  was  creeping  over 
him. 

"  Good-by,"  she  said  with  the  same  placid  smile. 

Could  he  urge  it  further  ?  And  what  did  he  care  for 
them  all  ?  or  what  were  they  to  him,  compared  with  the 
dear  little  girl  who  was  waiting  for  him  at  this  mo- 
ment ?  And  yet  his  heart  was  sore  as  he  walked  away 
from  the  house. 

"  You  made  no  reply  whatever  when  he  asked  you 
to  come  to  his  wedding,"  said  Mrs.  Bryce  to  Claudia, 
when  the  door  had  closed  after  him. 

"I  know.  But  I  am  not  going:  I  could  not  tell  him 
that,"  Claudia  replied. 


HIS   INHEEITANCE.  227 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

DEEAMS. 

were  married  very  quietly,  upon  the  inau- 
-*-  spicious  day  which  nobody  remarked,  except  the 
major's  wife.  Claudia,  at  her  window,  saw  the  chaplain 
set  out  toward  the  sutler's  quarters,  with  his  book  under 
his  arm.  For  a  moment,  as  she  stood  there  looking  out 
upon  the  morning,  wet  with  a  driving  wind  and  rain, 
and  not  at  all  like  a  wedding  morning,  she  wished  that 
she  were  dead,  so  hopeless  and  bleak,  and  rained  upon 
by  disappointment,  did  life  appear  to  her.  The  major's 
wife  had  sent  an  apology  at  the  last  moment.  She  was 
indisposed,  —  which  was  true,  she  had  been  indisposed 
to  attend  this  wedding  from  the  first ;  but  she  pleaded 
the  wet  day  and  incipient  ague,  and  rejoiced  in  both. 

Mrs.  Stubbs  would  swell  and  strut,  and  plume  her 
sable  feathers ;  but  it  would  not  be  in  her  presence. 
She  would  cut  short  her  triumph  in  so  much  as  was 
possible  by  lessening  the  number  of  lookers-on. 

"  You  can  go  if  you  choose ;  but  I  shall  not  think  of 
it,"  she  said  to  the  major,  who  was  putting  on  his  best 
uniform  to  do  honor  to  the  occasion. 

"  To  be  sure  I  shall  go,  my  dear.  Do  you  think  I 
would  put  such  a  slight  upon  Elyot  as  to  stay  away  ? 


228  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

He's  a  fine  young  fellow,  and  a  credit  to  the  regiment. 
I  wish  to  my  heart" —  and  then  the  major  for  once 
bethought  himself.  But  his  wife  knew  what  it  was  he 
wished.  And  so  did  she  indeed ;  though  what  availed 
wishing?  Had  she  not  done  even  more,  and  all  for 
nothing?  He  did  not  tell  his  wife  that  he  was  to  act 
the  part  of  a  father  to  this  girl  whom  she  so  envied, 
and  was  to  give  her  away.  That  would  have  been 
quite  too  much  to  bear.  But  he  made  one  more  at- 
tempt to  persuade  her  to  accompany  him. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  go,"  he  said.  "  It  has  an 
ugly  look  for  both  you  and  Claudia  to  stay  away.  And 
it's  rather  hard  on  Elyot  if  none  of  his  friends  are  to 
stand  by  him." 

But  Mrs.  Bryce  refused. 

"  I  might  catch  my  death  by  venturing  out  on  such 
a  day,"  she  said,  drawing  the  shawl  in  which  she  was 
muffled  close  about  her  head.  The  major  knew  that 
this  was  only  an  excuse;  but  he  did  not  press  the 
point. 

Claudia  remained  in  her  room  until  he  had  gone, 
when  she  appeared  in  the  parlor-door,  pulling  the  frill 
of  the  hood  to  her  cloak  about  her  head.  "  I  promised 
to  spend  the  day  with  Mrs.  Kirknafether,"  she  said. 
"  If  I  shouldn't  return  by  teatime,  you  may  send  Jinny 
round  for  me  in  the  evening."  The  dark  frill  drawn 
close  about  her  face  made  it  appear  more  sharp  and 
colorless  than  usual,  even  to  the  mother's  eyes. 

No,  it  was  not  strange  that  he  should  have  chosen 
the  other  one.  And  yet  Claudia  would  have  made  him 
a  good,  true  wife,  —  a  little  sharp,  perhaps;  but  she 
would  have  guarded  his  interests,  and  taken  her  place 
with  the  first  ladies  in  the  army,  which  Blossom  never 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  229 

could  do.  And  then  Claudia's  face  appeared  again  in 
the  doorway. 

"  I  believe  you  need  not  send  for  me,  after  all,"  she 
said.  "  Lieutenant  Gibbs,  or  some  one,  is  sure  to  be 
there,  who  will  bring  me  home." 

A  weaker  woman  (and  Claudia  had  been  weak 
enough  in  the  moments  when  she  had  any  grounds  for 
hope),  a  woman  utterly  weak,  would  have  taken  to  her 
bed  and  tears;  but  she  was  beginning  to  remember 
that  she  was  a  soldier's  daughter. 

When  the  ceremony  was  over,  Captain  Elyot  and 
his  bride  went  at  once  quietly  to  their  new  home, 
without  any  of  that  joyous  excitement  which  flutters 
so  naturally  about  a  wedding. 

Mrs.  Stubbs  rejoiced,  but  with  a  wild  joy  which  found 
little  outward  expression.  Oh,  how  this  end  which  she 
had  so  ardently  desired  had  come  about !  And  at  the 
last  moment,  too,  when  she  was  filled  with  despair. 
She  could  almost  have  gone  down  upon  her  knees  to 
the  major's  wife,  who  had  so  unwittingly  helped  it  on. 
If  it  was  his  money  —  the  money  that  was  one  day  to 
be  his  —  which  Mrs.  Bryce  had  coveted  for  her  daugh- 
ter, she  might  take  it,  and  be  welcome  to  it  all.  Mrs. 
Stubbs  would  have  poured  it  out  with  her  own  hands 
as  a  thank-offering,  had  it  been  in  her  power  to  do  so. 
Blossom  had  enough  for  them  both.  It  was  not  the 
money  she  had  desired,  but  the  position  he  would  give 
to  the  child,  the  fine  friends  who  would  gather  about 
her :  she  would  be  "  like  the  best  of  'em,"  at  last. 

So,  with  a  proud  heart,  the  mother  followed  them  to 
their  new  home.  She  would  be  a  slave,  if  need  be,  to 
the  man  who  had  done  so  much  for  Blossom.  She 
would  be  content  to  keep  in  the  background,  unknown 


230  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

•and  unnoticed,  or  even  to  go  away  by  herself  at  the  last, 
when  Blossom  had  reached  the  height  of  her  grandeur, 
and  to  gaze  upon  it  and  her,  humbly,  from  a  distance. 
"I'd  come  to  her  maybe  sometimes,  just  t'  look  at  her, 
just  t'  touch  her.  I'd  say  i  was  the  woman  as  nursed 
her ;  an'  nobody'd  know,  none  o'  the  grand  folks  would 
believe,  that  I  was  the  mother  that  bore  her."  She 
planned  it  all  out  artfully,  happy  in  Blossom's  happi- 
ness, but  with  that  restless  joy  which  still  seeks  some- 
thing beyond. 

"  They  won't  be  staying  here  long,"  she  said  to  Tolee, 
her  servant  and  slave.  "  Your  new  master'll  soon  be 
leaving  this  place  to  go  and  live  among  his  grand 
friends."  And  Tolee  stared  stupidly,  but  gathered 
enough  meaning  from  the  words  to  spread  the  saying 
about  the  garrison,  where  it  only  added  to  the  scorn 
with  which  Mrs.  Stubbs's  pretensions  were  looked  upon. 
Not  that  Mrs.  Stubbs  had  any  knowledge  as  to  the 
intentions  of  the  captain.  A  sudden  awe  of  the  young 
man  had  fallen  upon  her  since  he  had  stooped  to  raise 
her  to  his  level.  She  did  not  dream  of  intruding  upon 
his  affairs,  or  of  asking  his  plans  for  the  future.  It  was 
enough  that  Blossom  was  to  share  that  future.  She 
was  content  to  rely  upon  the  stories  which  had  passed 
without  denial  through  the  little  community  at  the  fort. 
And  these,  however  varied  they  might  be  in  minor  par- 
ticulars, ail  united  in  one  grand  truth,  as  she  believed, 
which  was,  that,  when  some  relative  in  the  East  should 
die,  Captain  Elyot  would  leave  the  army,  and  live  "  like 
a  lord."  But  what  this  relative  was  to  him,  in  what 
part  of  the  States  he  resided,  or  how  near  he  was  to  the 
final  move  which  was  to  do  so  much  for  Blossom,  she 
had  no  knowledge.  The  last  query  troubled  her. 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  231 

What  if  he  were  to  live  on  for  years?  —  till  she  her- 
self had  passed  away  without  seeing  Blossom's  triumph. 
Or,  worse  than  this,  what  if,  in  the  fickle  fortune  of  a 
soldier's  life,  Captain  Elyot  should  he  cut  off  before  this 
end  was  reached  ?  Oh,  she  could  not  be  cheated  out  of 
this  now  !  It  had  come  to  seem  her  right. 

While  these  fresh  anxieties  were  pricking  Mrs. 
Stubbs  with  a  thousand  points,  Captain  Elyot  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  meet  the  worst  that  could  befall  him, 
and  had  written  to  his  uncle  of  his  marriage. 

"  Did  I  ever  speak  to  you  of  my  uncle  ? "  he  asked 
of  Blossom,  — "  uncle  Jeremy,  off  in  the  States,  who 
has  been  a  father  to  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  how  I  shall  love  him !  "  Blossom  exclaimed  ten- 
derly and  quickly. 

Captain  Elyot  winced.  He  was  very  much  afraid 
that  she  would  never  have  the  opportunity.  He  did 
not  pursue  the  subject ;  nor  did  he  relate  the  story  in 
regard  to  the  cousin  on  the  Jersey  shore,  though  that 
had  been  upon  his  tongue.  He  would  have  hesitated, 
and  appeared  foolish  enough  in  his  own  eyes,  in  show- 
ing to  his  wife  that  another  girl  (as  he  believed)  had 
stood  with  parted  lips  ready  to  say  yes  to  his  suit. 
She  would  not  have  doubted  it.  If  he  had  described 
the  entire  Jersey  shore  as  lined  with  damsels  weeping, 
and  wringing  their  hands,  on  his  account,  she  would 
have  been  quite  ready  to  believe  it. 

He  wrote  his  letter.  He  made  a  list  of  Blossom's 
charms  and  virtues  with  the  fond  imbecility  of  a  lover, 
wiping  it  out  effectually  at  last  by  avowing  that  she 
was  the  daughter  of  the  former  post-sutler.  When  this 
word  was  written,  he  felt  that  all  was  over  between 
uncle  Jeremy  and  himself.  The  old  man  was  simple 


232  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

enough  in  his  tastes,  and  plain  to  homeliness  in  his 
ways ,  but  he  was  an  aristocrat  at  heart.  He  would  be 
angry  that  his  nephew  had  not  sought  the  wife  he  had 
selected  for  him;  but  he  would  be  furious  over  the 
choice  he  had  made  for  himself. 

As  the  young  man  folded  and  sealed  the  letter,  he 
thought  of  the  old  house  in  an  Eastern  city  where  he 
had  spent  his  idle  days  for  many  years  now,  —  the  one 
place  in  the  world  which  was  home  to  him,  and  where  he 
had  fancied  he  should  end  his  life  when  he  was  tired  of 
campaigning  and  roughing  it  about  the  world.  Every 
part  of  the  old  place  was  familiar  and  dear  to  him ;  yet 
it  never  would  be  his  now,  he  knew.  It  was  not  the 
palace  which  Mrs.  Stubbs's  fancy  had  evoked  from  her 
dreams.  She  would  have  turned  from  it  in  disdain; 
but  it  was  very  pleasant  and  dear  to  the  young  man. 
He  could  not  resign  it  without  a  sigh.  Yet  Blossom 
was  better  than  all  this  to  him.  He  would  not  have 
given  one  day  of  happiness  with  her  for  the  old  house 
and  all  the  friends  he  had  left  in  that  Eastern  city. 

"Why  do  you  sigh?"  asked  Blossom  as  he  laid  his 
pen  down,  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair. 

"  It  has  been  a  tiresome  letter  to  write,"  he  answered 
evasively.  He  almost  regretted  that  he  had  mentioned 
his  uncle  to  her.  Her  tender  heart  should  never  be 
pained  by  the  knowledge  that  this  letter  had  been  a 
plea  in  her  behalf. 

Blossom  had  been  married  some  weeks,  when,  one 
morning,  her  mother  appeared  in  the  doorway  of  her 
parlor. 

"  Come  in,  come  in ! "  Blossom  called  out,  springing 
up,  and  scattering  the  bright-colored  wools  she  was  sort- 
ing in  her  lap.  "  You  never  sit  with  me  in  these  days, 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  233 

though  you  should  have  nothing  else  to  do."  She 
pulled  an  arm-chair  forward,  and  placed  her  mother 
in  it. 

"  There's  so  much  to  be  seen  to ! "  the  woman  said 
uneasily.  "  Tolee  grows  worse  and  worse.  I'm  think- 
ing we'll  have  to  get  rid  of  her  some  day." 

"Any  time  you  think  best:  it  is  as  you  say,  you 
know,"  Blossom  answered  affectionately.  "  Or  why  not 
have  some  one  to  assist  her  ?  It  is  too  much  for  you. 
You  promised  to  be  a  lady  when  we  came  here,"  she 
added  playfully. 

But  there  was  no  answering  smile  on  Mrs.  Stubbs's 
face. 

"  I  never  could  be  that,"  she  said  quietly.  It  was 
the  one  subject  upon  which  she  had  pondered  deep  and 
long,  and  had  made  up  her  mind.  "  It's  for  you  to  be 
that.  You  were  born  to  it.  The  like  o'  me's  fit  only 
for  rough  places.  But  you're  a  lady  born." 

And  so  she  was.  It  seemed  as  though  some  drops  of 
gentle  blood,  filtered  through  a  common  enough  ances- 
try, had  come  down  to  the  girl,  and  made  her  what  she 
was,  —  a  being  of  a  different  order  from  the  mother 
who  bore  her.  It  showed  itself  in  her  pretty  soft  hands 
whiter  than  milk,  in  the  turn  of  the  head  upon  which 
she  had  coiffured  her  hair  in  a  fruitless  effort  after 
matronly  dignity,  pinning  up  and  smoothing  out  the 
curls,  like  a  child  playing  at  womanhood. 

"  But  maybe  we'd  best  not  make  a  change,"  the 
woman  went  on  with  affected  carelessness,  yet  watch- 
ing Blossom  with  crafty,  half-shut  eyes :  "  it'll  only  be 
for  a  little  while." 

The  young  mistress  of  the  house  had  flown  to  the 
window  as  a  horse  galloped  by.  Its  rider  had  doffed 


234  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

his  hat,  and  thrown  a  kiss  from  the  tips  of  his  fingers. 
The  sun  shone  in  warm  and  bright  across  the  broad 
river,  beyond  whose  sandy  sweep  of  level  edge  lay  the 
rolling  prairies,  already  growing  green.  Love  was  a 
lens  through  which  even  this  landscape,  barren  of 
beauty,  had  gained  a  charm.  She  had  no  desire  or 
longing  beyond. 

"What  will  be  for  a  little  while?"  she  asked 
absently,  still  following  with  her  eyes  the  handsome, 
bold  rider  who  had  not  yet  passed  out  of  sight. 

"  That  you'll  be  staying  here.  You  an'  the  cap'n'll 
be  movin'  off  t'  the  States  some  day." 

"  Oh !  Perhaps  so  —  when  he  is  ordered  away  from 
here.  But  that  will  not  be  for  a  long  time  yet,"  Blos- 
som replied,  turning  from  the  window.  The  rider  had 
disappeared  at  last,  and  the  scene  had  lost  its  charm. 
She  came  back,  and  sat  down  among  the  bright  wools, 
passing  them  idly  through  her  hands,  and  prattling  like 
a  child.  "  When  we  do  go,  I  shall  see  aunt  Julia  and 
all  the  girls  again.  I  wonder  if  they  will  think  me 
changed.  They  used  to  call  me  Baby  Blossom.  It  was 
only  a  pet  name,  you  know.  They  would  not  think  of 
calling  me  that  now,"  she  added  with  dignity. 

"You'd  never  be  wasting  your  time  on  such  as 
them,"  the  mother  broke  in  contemptuously.  "He'd 
have  his  fine  friends  to  go  to." 

"  And  have  I  no  fine  friends  ? "  repeated  Blossom 
with  a  happy  laugh.  "  But  I  am  to  visit  them.  He 
promised  me." 

The  woman  disdained  to  argue  over  so  trifling  a 
matter.  A  man's  promises  were  easily  made  —  and 
broken,  she  thought. 

"  He  hears  from  'em,  I'll  be  bound,"  she  ventured 
after  a  moment. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  235 

"  From  his  friends  ?  Oh,  yes !  and  writes  to  them 
too.  It  was  only  the  last  mail  that  he  sent  a  long 
letter  to  his  uncle,"  Blossom  ran  on,  innocently  voluble. 

"To  his  uncle?"  The  woman  was  alert  at  once. 
This  must  be  the  information  she  was  seeking. 

"Yes,"  Blossom  assented  slowly,  laying  a  skein  of 
pale  corn-color  beside  a  violet,  and  turning  her  head 
upon  one  side  to  watch  the  effect.  "The  uncle  who 
has  been  like  a  father  to  him."  It  was  the  one  item  of 
knowledge  that  she  possessed  in  regard  to  her  hus- 
band's relatives,  concerning  whom  she  felt  no  curiosity, 
being  quite  happy  and  at  rest ;  but  she  delivered  it  as 
though  it  had  been  a  volume. 

"  And  he's  old,  and  like  to  die  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know."  Blossom  opened  her  eyes  in  sur- 
prise. 

"Yes.  And,  when  he  dies, — I've  heard  'em  talk  it 
over  at  the  store,  —  the  cap'n'll  go  an'  set  himself  up  in 
his  place." 

"  But  we  don't  wish  him  to  die,"  said  Blossom  (she 
was  shocked  at  the  cool  indifference  with  which  the 
old  man  was  to  be  set  aside  to  make  room  for  her), 
—  "  if  he  is  a  dear  old  man." 

"  But  he  isn't."  A  jealous  instinct  roused  a  spirit  of 
prophecy  in  the  woman.  "  He's — how  do  I  know  what 
he  is? "  she  added  with  a  hard  laugh ;  "but  he's  got  the 
place  that  '11  come  to  the  cap'n  some  day.  I've  heard 
'em  say  so  many  a  time." 

"  We  don't  want  it,"  said  Blossom  softly.  "  We've 
money  enough,  you  and  I,  for  us  all.  Let  him  keep  it, 
and  he  may  live  forever,  poor  old  man."  The  world 
was  wide :  no  one  need  be  crowded  out  of  it  to  make 
room  for  her. 


236  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

In  all  this  time  while  Captain  Elyot's  happy  honey- 
moon was  passing,  no  one  called  upon  his  young  bride, 
with  the  exception  of  the  chaplain's  wife  and  Mrs. 
Bryce,  who  left  her  name  at  the  door  one  afternoon, 
when  she  was  sure  that  Blossom  was  out.  As  for 
Claudia,  horses  could  hardly  have  dragged  her  to  the 
house ;  and  the  other  ladies  at  the  post  took  their  cue 
from  headquarters,  and  staid  away  without  exception. 
If  Mrs.  Stubbs  fancied  that  the  words  of  the  clergy- 
man pronounced  over  her  from  his  book,  and  the  bear- 
ing of  a  new  name,  would  bring  about  a  change  in 
Blossom's  social  position,  she  was  fated  to  disappoint- 
ment. But  nothing  had  come  about  as  she  expected; 
and  she  was  too  bewildered  by  the  turn  affairs  had 
taken,  and  by  her  new  position,  to  be,  for  a  while,  in  any 
way  affected  by  outside  events.  It  was  only  when  she 
had  settled  at  last  into  her  place  in  the  new  household, 
and  the  hours  began  to  hang  heavy  upon  the  hands 
unused  to  ease,  that  she  became  aware  of  this  fresh 
neglect.  "  They're  set  against  us,"  the  poor  soul  said. 
But  her  strength  for  resistance  was  waning,  and  she 
was  strangely  humbled  in  her  own  opinion.  The  idea 
haunted  her  half-crazed  brain  that  it  would  be  different 
if  she  were  only  out  of  the  way.  There  was  no  lack 
of  respect  in  Captain  Elyot's  manner,  nor  had  Blossom's 
love  been  turned  away  from  her  mother  by  her  mar- 
riage ;  but  it  would  be  better  for  them  both,  she  had 
come  to  believe,  if  she  were  not  here.  Alone,  Blossom 
might  win  her  way,  even  here  where  she  was  so  lightly 
esteemed ;  but  she,  Mrs.  Stubbs  herself,  who  would  have 
done  any  thing  for  the  child,  was  only  a  bar  and  a  hin- 
drance. 

She  planned  all  manner  of  schemes  to  rid  them  of 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  237 

her,  —  wild  impracticable  schemes,  which  she  had  no 
courage  to  attempt.  Would  this  old  man  never  die? 
The  summer  was  here  already,  the  grass  green  about 
them,  the  great  arched  sky  vividly  blue  overhead.  The 
river,  dark  and  full,  slid  on  its  way  over  its  sandy  bed. 
The  verbenas  and  larkspurs  in  Blossom's  little  garden 
nodded  scarlet  and  blue  and  pink  in  the  sunshine.  And 
many  a  heartache  awoke  with  the  flowers,  as  one  after 
another  of  the  officers  at  the  post  were  ordered  away 
into  active  service.  Captain  Elyot's  turn  might  come 
any  day ;  and  then  where  would  her  hopes  be  ?  What 
if,  after  all  her  scheming,  she  should  gain  nothing  for 
Blossom  but  a  broken  heart  at  last ! 


238  HIS   INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

WHEN  THE  SUN   SHINES   ON  THE  MIST. 

IT  was  early  summer,  and  the  door  of  the  store  stood 
wide  open.  In  one  corner,  screened  from  the  sight 
of  passers  outside,  a  party  of  men  in  undress  uniform 
were  gathered  about  a  card-table :  two  or  three  idlers 
looked  over  their  shoulders,  among  whom  was  Cogger 
the  wagoner,  who  had  just  come  in  with  an  emigrant 
train  on  its  way  south. 

The  whole  place  had  changed  its  appearance  since 
Mrs.  Stubbs  retired  to  private  life.  There  was  a  lack 
of  that  scrupulous  neatness  which  displayed  itself  under 
her  rule,  and  a  greater  striving  after  startling  effects. 
Gaudy  calicoes  and  gay-bordered  handkerchiefs  swung 
from  perch  to  perch ;  showy  horse-equipments  were  dis- 
played ostentatiously ;  while  the  array  of  bottles  upon 
the  shelves  would  have  done  credit  to  a  bar-room.  Nor 
were  the  necessities  of  human  life  forgotten.  They  did 
not,  however,  push  themselves  disagreeably  to  the  front, 
but,  like  the  virtues,  were  to  be  had  upon  demand. 

Cogger  had  bestowed  upon  all  this  display  a  com- 
prehensive stare,  which  might  or  might  not  express 
admiration. 

Blinkins,  the  new  sutler,  observed  it  with  a  self-satis- 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  239 

fied  smile.  "You  knew  him,  —  this  Stubbs?"  lie  in- 
quired. 

"  I  did.  Me  an'  him  was  as  good  as  pardners  the  last 
time  I  crossed  the  plains." 

"  Good  fellow  enough,  they  say,  but  slow-coach,"  the 
young  man  apostrophized  flippantly,  setting  his  regula- 
tion cap  a  little  more  on  one  side. 

"  He  warn't  spry,"  Cogger  replied  slowly  ;  "  but  ye'd 
find  him  thar  when  ye  looked  for  him,  most  generally." 

"  Oh,  yes !  good  fellow  I  don't  doubt,"  the  sutler 
assented  glibly.  "  Make  yourself  at  home,  Mr.  —  Mr. 
Goggle.  Look  about  you :  maybe  we  can  suit  you  with 
something  hi  our  line.  Here's  a  fine  pair  of  buckskins 
now."  And  he  eyed  Cogger's  worn  nether  garments  as 
he  spoke. 

But  the  wagoner  shook  his  head. 

"  I'll  take  a  little  baccy.  I  never  did  think  much  o' 
clothes,  'cept  as  a  kiver,  not  bein'  much  t'  look  at  my- 
self; but  I'll  bear  it  in  mind  all  the  same."  And  he 
returned  to  the  players. 

"  What  ever  came  of  the  wimmin-folks,  arter  Stubbs 
was  put  under,  and  this  pooty  boy  took  his  place  ?  "  he 
asked,  in  a  whisper  loud  enough  to  reach  the  ears  of  the 
last-named  individual. 

"  What  women-folks  ?  "  some  one  inquired  absently. 

"  Stubbs's  wife  an'  the  little  un." 

"Where've  you  been,  man,  not  to  hear  the  news? 
Why,  Elyot  married  the  girl.  Confounded  good  luck 
too,  whatever  they  may  say !  She'll  have  no  end  of 
money,  and  "  — 

"  Ye  don't  say  ?  "  And  Cogger  thrust  himself  into 
the  group.  "  I  reckoned  it  might  come  round ;  kind 
o'  Providence  in  it." 


240  HTS   INHERITANCE. 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  returned  the  speaker ; 
"  but  there's  money  enough  in  it.  Elyot  cut  us  all  out. 
But  there  was  no  chance  for  a  man :  the  old  woman 
kept  her  pretty  daughter  under  lock  and  key,  and  only 
brought  her  out  at  the  end  of  a  chain." 

"  Ye  don't  say  ?  "  Cogger  was  not  yet  over  his  aston- 
ishment at  this  happy  termination  of  affairs.  "An' 
they're  here  now  ?  " 

"  They  were  an  hour  ago :  I  hardly  think  they  can 
have  strayed  very  far  away  since  then." 

"An'  the  old  woman?" 

"  Oh !  she's  with  'em,  a  kind  of  providential  bal- 
ance." 

"Ye  don't  say?"  Cogger  added  for  the  third  time. 
And,  after  a  moment  of  silence,  he  addressed  the  sutler 
again :  "  Young  man,  I  don't  keer  ef  I  do  take  a  look 
at  them  buckskins." 

The  young  man  addressed  hastened  to  bring  forward 
the  desired  garments,  with  a  running  comment  on  their 
excellence  as  he  spread  them  out. 

Cogger  held  them  at  arm's-length  while  he  screwed 
up  one  eye,  and  tried  the  effect  of  distance.  Then, 
bringing  them  nearer,  he  tested  their  quality  by  a  brisk 
rubbing  between  his  fists,  to  the  evident  anxiety  of  the 
storekeeper.  At  last,  giving  the  whole  a  shake  which 
would  have  annihilated  any  thing  of  a  less  firm  texture, 
he  pronounced  them  all  right.  "  I  suppose  you  kin 
give  a  man  the  rest  o'  the  fixin's  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  certainly  ;  any  thing  you  wish,  Mr. 
Goggle.  Just  choose  for  yourself.  I  venture  to  say 
there  is  not  such  a  stock  this  side  of  Independence. 
Perhaps  you'd  like  to  step  in  here  and  try  them  on  ;  " 
and  he  threw  open  the  door  into  what  had  been  Blos- 
som's parlor. 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  241 

"  What  has  come  over  Cogger?  "  exclaimed  one  of  the 
players  a  little  later,  when  the  wagon-master,  arrayed 
in  his  new  purchase  and  a  somewhat  shopworn  flannel 
blouse  of  enormous  size,  stood  before  a  very  small 
mirror,  complacently  surveying  as  much  of  his  figure 
as  could  be  reflected  therein  at  one  time. 

"  Going  to  a  funeral,"  suggested  one,  at  sight  of  the 
lean  figure  arrayed  in  this  loose  garment,  which  hung 
about  his  form  as  a  flag  drapes  its  staff  on  a  breezeless 
day. 

"  Just  look  at  that ! "  said  the  sutler,  with  a  wink 
toward  the  players.  "  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  fit  ?  " 
And,  dexterously  seizing  a  handful  of  the  coat  between 
the  shoulders  behind  (thus  drawing  it  into  temporary 
shape  in  front),  he  bade  Cogger  look  in  the  glass. 
Then,  wheeling  him  about  with  a  sudden  grip  in  front, 
he  urged  him  to  look  over  his  shoulder  and  see  for  him- 
self. "  Was  there  ever  a  snugger  fit  in  the  back  ?  " 

And  Cogger  was  satisfied  even  to  incipient  vanity, 
especially  when  to  these  were  added  a  new  pair  of  boots, 
a  gay-colored  handkerchief,  and  a  bottle  of  pomatum. 

"I  say,  Cogger,"  broke  in  one  of  the  card-players, 
"  what's  going  to  be  done  now  ?  " 

"  I  don't  mind  telling  ye  that  I'm  thinkin'  o'  gettin' 
married,"  the  wagon-master  replied,  proceeding  with 
grave  deliberation  to  finish  his  toilet.  "  Thar's  a  young 
gal  down  on  the  Santa  F6*  trail  I  spoke  to  as  I  came 
along  in  the  fall.  She'll  be  lookin'  out  for  me,  most 
likely,  an'  I  might  as  well  be  ready.  Ye  never  kin  tell 
what'll  happen.  Her  name  is  Susannah,"  he  added 
carelessly.  "  H'm ;  an'  so  Elyot  married  the  little  gal !  " 

"  What  blessed  luck  some  fellows  have !  "  burst  out 
oiie  of  the  group.  "Stubbs  must  have  left  a  pretty 


242  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

fortune ;  and,  as  if  that  wasn't  enough,  some  rich  old 
fellow  in  the  States,  just  ready  to  drop  off,  '11  leave  him 
another  pile.  They  say  he'll  throw  up  his  commission 
before  long." 

"  I  happen  to  know  something  of  that  second  story." 
The  speaker  was  a  new-comer  fresh  from  the  States. 
He  glanced  carefully  around  as  he  went  on  dealing  out 
the  cards  in  his  hands ;  then  he  proceeded  cautiously, 
"  It  may  be  all  true  enough  about  this  Stubbs's  fortune ; 
but  Elyot'll  never  get  his  uncle's  money.  The  old  man 
is  swearing  mad  over  his  nephew's  marrying  the  sutler's 
daughter." 

"  Hush !  "  whispered  some  one  at  his  elbow.  "  There's 
the  old  woman  now." 

It  was  true.  Mrs.  Stubbs  had  come  in  unobserved, 
and  stood  scarcely  a  dozen  yards  from  the  speaker. 
There  was  a  rustle  of  the  stiff  black  garments  as  she 
passed  out  and  away.  She  had  not  seen  their  faces; 
but  every  word  had  reached  her  ears.  In  one  moment 
her  castle  in  the  air  fell  to  ruins.  Her  dream  of  glory 
for  the  child  faded  like  a  mist  touched  by  the  sun.  The 
old  man  was  angry  !  Even  Captain  Elyot's  fine  friends 
had  turned  away  from  the  child,  and  she  would  never 
be  a  grand  lady,  after  all.  The  glare  of  the  sinking  sun 
dazed  her  eyes ;  the  sudden  shine  of  the  river  —  as  she 
turned  a  corner,  hardly  knowing  whither  she  went,  and 
struck  out  beyond  the  stockade  —  brought  a  deathly 
faintness.  She  could  have  fallen ;  but  some  instinct  of 
will  held  her  up  till  she  had  passed  beyond  the  reach 
of  curious  eyes,  and  an  angle  of  the  rough  wall  screened 
her  from  sight.  Here  she  sank  down,  and  let  the 
strange  numbness  which  had  seized  her  lock  her  into  for- 
ge tfulness.  It  must  have  been  hours  before  she  came 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  243 

to  herself,  before  she  rose  up  with  a  confused  sensation 
of  bearing  a  weight  under  which  she  staggered,  and 
moved  toward  her  new  home.  As  she  approached 
slowly  and  with  difficulty,  some  one  hanging  about  the 
corner  of  the  house  came  to  meet  her,  screened  by  the 
gathering  darkness ;  for  night  was  at  hand. 

"  I  hope  I  see  ye  well,  ma'am,"  said  Cogger,  remov- 
ing his  hat,  and  advancing  with  an  awkward,  hesitating 
step. 

"  Eh  ?  "  There  was  no  recognition  in  the  eyes  which 
looked  beyond  him. 

"  'Pears  to  me  you  ain't  over  civil  to  old  friends." 

The  wagon-master  was  piqued  into  self-confidence. 

"  I  ain't  no  friends,"  the  woman  responded  in  a  hol- 
low voice,  each  word  coming  laboriously  from  her  lips. 
"  Nobody's  friends  t'  ye,  only  t'  git  what  they  kin." 

"  That's  an  awful  hard  sayin' :  if  I  was  you,  I  wouldn't 
hold  to  it,"  replied  the  wagon-master  confidentially. 
"  Why,  I've  come  t'  show  ye  'tain't  so.  Here  am  I,  who 
ain't  much  t'  look  at,  t'  be  sure ;  but  I've  been  thinking 
about  ye  an'  the  little  gal  all  the  way  along  the  trail. 
I  had  somethin'  "  —  He  fumbled  in  the  pockets  of  his 
coat,  and  brought  out  a  little  chain,  cut  deftly  and  deli- 
cately from  the  bones  of  some  animal  which  had  fallen 
on  the  plains.  "  I  thought  p'r'aps  the  little  gal  'ud  like 
it,  seein'  her  father  an'  me  was  as  good  as  pardners." 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  do  you  want  ?  "  questioned  the  wo- 
man vacantly,  letting  the  chain,  which  had  cost  Cogger 
many  an  hour's  labor,  slip  through  her  fingers. 

"  It's  for  the  little  gal  —  for  Miss  Blossom.  They  say 
she's  married.  If  you'd  give  it  to  her.  'Tain't  much ; 
but  ye  might  wish  her  joy  with  it,  an'  tell  her  there 
wa'n't  a  link  of  it  that  didn't  have  her  bright  eyes 
shinin'  through  'em  when  I  was  workin'  at  it." 


244  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

The  woman  seemed  but  half  to  comprehend  this  long 
message  ;  but  she  raised  the  little  bawble.  and  examined 
it  absently.  Then  she  dropped  it  into  his  hand  again. 

"  Why,  man,  she's  got  'em  o'  gold  !  " 

She  brushed  by  him,  and  entered  the  house.  She 
passed  on  to  the  room  which  Blossom  had  insisted  upon 
making  fine  for  her,  and  threw  herself  heavily  upon 
the  bed.  On  the  wall  before  her  was  a  picture,  the 
only  remaining  one  of  Stubbs's  gallery,  which  she  had 
pinned  there  with  her  own  hands,  fancying  that  the 
face,  though  high-colored  and  rudely  drawn,  bore  a 
resemblance  to  Blossom.  As  she  lay  here,  her  mind 
gradually  clearing,  and  her  thoughts  returning  to  their 
old  channel,  —  the  deep-cut  channel  from  which  there 
was  now  no  escape,  —  the  eyes,  with  a  touch  of  sadness 
in  them,  seemed  to  gaze  upon  her  continually.  Turn 
whichever  way  she  would,  they  pursued  her  like  a  re- 
proach. 

"  I  did  what  I  could  for  ye !  The  Lord  knows  I 
tried,"  she  said  aloud.  And  Blossom  heard  the  voice, 
and  came  hastily  into  the  room. 

"  Are  you  ill  ? "  she  asked  with  gentle  anxiety. 
"  Where  have  you  been  so  long  ?  "  There  were  visit- 
ors in  the  parlor.  Captain  Elyot  had  brought  a  couple 
of  friends  home  to  tea. 

"  Are  they  there  now  ?  "  The  woman  motioned  with 
her  head  towards  the  door. 

"Yes:  they  have  had  their  tea,  and  are  smoking 
their  pipes  together." 

Mrs.  Stubbs  had  turned  her  face  to  the  wall. 

"  Go  back  to  'em,"  she  said  in  a  hoarse  voice.  "  I'm 
best  by  myself,  child." 


HIS    INHERITANCE.  245 

"  Is  it  your  head  ?  "  asked  Blossom  tenderly.  "  Let 
me  bathe  it." 

"  No,  I'm  best  by  myself.  Per'aps  I'll  drop  asleep.*' 
The  woman  made  a  feint  of  composing  herself  to  slum- 
ber; and  Blossom  kissed  her,  and  went  softly  out  of 
the  room. 


246  HIS   INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER    XXL 

OEDEEED    AWAY. 

BUT  Mrs.  Stubbs  had  no  thought  of  sleeping. 
There  was  a  weight  upon  her  brain  and  a  fire  in 
her  veins  which  made  quiet,  restful  sleep  impossible, 
and  yet  there  was  a  strange  numbness  stealing  over 
her  when  she  lay  still.  It  dimmed  her  sight.  The 
picture  like  Blossom's  face  waved  and  danced,  and 
blurred  to  indistinctness,  upon  the  wall  before  her. 
Was  her  hearing  becoming  dulled  ?  She  dared  not  lie 
there,  lest  she  should  float  away  into  an  unconscious- 
ness from  which  there  was  no  return.  She  listened  for 
some  passing  sound;  and  a  burst  of  merry  voices  came 
from  the  parlor,  with  a  happy  vibration  as  they  died 
away,  jarring  upon  her  spirit.  She  rose  heavily,  and 
left  the  bed.  But  she  would  not  go  in  to  them.  She 
could  not  so  soon  meet  the  man  who  had  deceived  the 
child  and  her.  They  would  not  mark  her  absence. 
They  did  not  need  her  to  make  their  happiness  com- 
plete. No  one  in  all  the  world  needed  her  now.  No 
one  wanted  her,  if  the  truth  were  told.  Only  a  little 
while  ago,  and  her  energies  were  strained  to  meet  the 
demands  upon  them;  and  now  the  world  seemed  to 
move  on,  and  she  to  be  dropped  by  the  way.  Even  her 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  247 

schemes,  when  nothing  but  schemes  was  left  to  her, 
had  come  to  nought.  All  around  her  were  signs  of  a 
life  in  which  she  had  now  no  part, — voices  and  laugh- 
ter coming  in  at  the  open  window,  music  sounding  in 
the  distance,  people  hurrying  by.  Some  one  passed  in 
the  twilight,  gay  in  a  sweeping  gown  with  ribbons 
dangling,  and  a  shrill  laugh  cutting  the  air.  It  was 
Claudia  Bryce,  with  her  new  lover  by  her  side.  Ah ! 
the  young  were  easily  consoled.  Age  and  wrinkles 
and  gray  hairs,  only,  brought  constancy,  even  in  de- 
spair. She  groped  her  way  to  the  door,  and  stole  into 
the  open  air  again,  fearful  lest  Blossom  should  hear  her. 
She  longed  for  a  breath  of  the  wind  that  came  tearing 
over  the  prairies  at  times  like  a  troop  of  wild  horses. 
But  the  air  was  still  and  sultry  to-night.  Doors  and 
windows  were  thrown  wide  open  to  catch  the  occasional 
breeze,  cooled  by  its  passage  across  the  broad  river. 
The  notes  of  a  bugle,  faint  and  sweet,  sounded  from 
beliind  the  barracks.  There  was  running  to  and  fro, 
cheery  greetings  and  gossip  at  every  corner.  Was  it 
her  morbid  fancy,  or  were  these  voices  stilled  at  her 
approach  ?  The  door  at  her  old  home  was  ajar :  the 
window  of  the  little  parlor  was  open ;  and  a  trolling, 
rollicking  song  came  out,  as  if  to  mock  her  as  she  went 
by.  -She  had  been  the  mistress  here  once.  She  had 
reigned  like  a  queen.  A  poor  kingdom  it  might  seem 
to  the  fine  ladies  about  her,  but  all  her  own,  and  she 
had  gloried  in  it.  Now  she  was  crownless,  deposed. 
She  had  grasped  at  something  beyond  this,  and  lost  all. 
She  wandered  on.  The  cheerful,  familiar  sights  and 
sounds  which  had  rasped  her  irritated  spirit  were  left 
behind.  The  fields  of  grain  waved  green  about  her ; 
the  river  rolled  by  just  beyond.  There  was  something 


248  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

soothing  in  the  murmur  of  its  sweeping  current.  For 
how  many  years  had  it  been  the  undertone  to  her 
busy  life  !  Away  in  the  distance,  brought  near  by  the 
haze  of  twilight,  plain  and  sky  met  in  a  debatable 
land  of  shadow.  She  wondered,  with  a  dull  curiosity, 
about  the  world  off  there,  of  which  she  knew  so  little. 
With  the  great,  calm  sky  above  her,  and  the  quiet 
river  flowing  near,  a  measure  of  peace  and  hope  re- 
turned. There  might  be  something  yet,  in  that  un- 
known region  from  which  the  darkness  was  advancing 
in  great  strides,  for  the  child  and  her,  if  they  could  but 
push  out  boldly  to  seek  it. 

And  then  she  remembered,  with  a  pang  sharp  as  a 
pain,  that  the  child  was  no  longer  her  own  to  control. 
She  had  resigned  her  right  to  the  girl.  She  had  indeed 
lost  her  sceptre,  and  given  away  her  crown. 

She  was  glad,  when  she  turned  back  and  gained  the 
enclosure  of  the  fort,  to  find  the  way  she  had  come  over 
nearly  deserted,  and  the  night  fast  closing  in.  No  one 
in  the  still  darkness  heeded  the  black  figure,  which 
seemed  a  part  of  itself  as  it  hurried  on.  There  was  a 
light  in  the  sutler's  parlor,  toward  which  her  feet  turned 
of  themselves.  For  one  brief  moment  she  could  fancy 
that  the  old  days  had  come  again.  Once  more  she  saw 
the  room  half  full  of  smoke,  the  round  table  drawn  up 
close  to  the  fire,  where  waited  an  impatient,  familiar 
group.  What  kept  the  mistress  so  long  away  ?  Some 
one  sang  a  noisy  song  to  beguile  the  time.  The  refrain 
came  to  her  ears  with  the  tap  of  heels  upon  the  floor. 
Her  hand  was  thrust  out  for  the  latch.  Then  she  came 
to  herself,  and  shrank  back  from  the  door.  Dead  and 
gone !  The  forms  she  had  called  up  in  her  vision  had 
turned  to  dust  and  ashes  years  before.  What  was  she 
but  a  ghost  of  the  former  mistress  of  the  place  ? 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  249 

She  hurried  on  home.  Home !  —  it  was  no  home  to 
her.  But  she  crept  into  the  house  unobserved,  and  to 
bed.  There  was  silence  in  the  parlor,  out  from  which 
the  merry  voices  had  come  only  an  hour  before.  The 
visitors  had  departed,  and  Blossom  would  come  present- 
ly to  see  if  she  still  slept.  She  composed  her  limbs, 
and  even  controlled  her  quick,  panting  breath,  as  the 
girl's  step  sounded  outside  the  door ;  and  Blossom,  hav- 
ing peeped  in,  stole  away  again. 

Then  alone  in  the  darkness  she  tried  to  think  it  out, 
—  to  plan  her  future  and  the  child's.  She  had  never 
been  one  to  grasp  at  another  hand  for  strength.  She 
had  stood  alone  fearless,  self-helped ;  but  now,  in  the 
darkness  and  in  the  feebleness  of  her  spirit,  she  would 
have  sought  a  friend.  But  there^as  none,  —  no  one 
who  could  enter  in  any  degree  into  her  hopes,  or  be 
made  to  feel  her  despair.  Cogger's  plain  face,  with  its 
shrewd  blinking  eyes,  rose  before  her  unbidden.  But 
she  put  it  aside.  What  could  he  know  of  her  ambition 
for  the  child?  He  would  only  range  himself  with  Cap- 
tain Elyot  and  "the  rest  of  'em,"  she  thought  bitterly. 
No,  she  must  fight  alone;  for  fight  she  would.  The 
life  she  had  been  leading  the  past  few  months  was  gall- 
ing enough,  even  with  hope  to  lend  her  patience.  It 
would  be  beyond  endurance  now.  Oh,  if  she  had  only 
held  out  against  the  young  man !  If  she  had  but  barred 
the  door  in  his  face,  instead  of  urging  on  the  intimacy 
which  had  ended  in  Blossom's  marriage !  If  she  had 
only  been  firm  at  the  last !  She  herself  had  made  the 
net  in  which  Blossom's  feet  were  snared.  But  for  this, 
they  might  have  gone  away,  —  they  two ;  and  some- 
where, even  though  at  the  ends  of  the  earth,  in  some 
distant  city  where  they  were  unknown,  the  money 


250  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

which  went  for  nothing  here  would  have  bought  posi- 
tion, favor,  every  thing,  for  the  child. 

The  moon,  straggling  up  the  sky,  sent  a  long,  slant- 
ing ray,  like  a  ghostly  finger,  into  the  room  where  the 
woman  lay  tossing  upon  her  uneasy  bed.  It  touched 
the  face  upon  the  wall  so  like  Blossom's.  Oh,  how 
could  any  one  turn  against  the  child !  Perhaps  it  was 
not  true,  after  all.  It  might  be  that  this  stranger  was 
mistaken.  The  gossip  of  a  garrison  had  taught  her 
that  rumor  was  two-faced.  No  disturbing  news  had 
reached  Blossom,  or  she  would  have  shared  it  with  her 
mother  before  now ;  and  Captain  Elyot  seemed  happy 
and  at  ease.  How  could  he  be,  if  this  were  true? 
Still,  if  this  old  man  so  far  away  had  looked  with  favor 
upon  the  marriage,  there  should  have  come  a  letter  from 
him  before  now.  And  Blossom  had  assured  her  that 
there  was  none.  What  if  one  had  come ;  and  the  young 
man,  unwilling  to  let  the  truth  be  known,  had  con- 
cealed it  from  the  child  ?  She  rose  from  the  bed  again, 
and  by  the  light  of  the  moon  made  her  way  across  the 
narrow  passage,  to  the  parlor-door,  which  opened  noise- 
lessly at  her  touch.  It  was  but  a  step,  in  the  dim  light, 
to  the  corner  where  Captain  Elyot's  writing-case  lay 
closed  and  locked  upon  a  table.  She  held  her  breath 
as  she  took  it  in  her  arms,  lest  she  should  awaken  the 
sleepers  in  the  next  room ;  but  no  alarm  disturbed  her 
as  she  retreated  swiftly.  She  shut  the  door,  and  fas- 
tened it  carefully  after  her.  Then  lighting  a  candle,  and 
drawing  the  curtain  of  her  narrow  window,  she  prepared 
to  search  the  contents  of  the  desk.  A  bunch  of  keys 
that  had  tried  every  unyielding  lock  at  the  post  was 
among  the  odds  and  ends  reserved  from  the  final  dis- 
posal of  the  stock  at  the  store.  These  she  brought  out, 


KIS   INHERITANCE.  251 

testing  each  one  patiently,  until  at  last  the  lock  sprang 
back,  and  the  lid  opened.  She  turned  the  papers  over 
cautiously,  careful  not  to  disturb  their  order,  seeking, 
she  hardly  knew  by  what  token,  this  letter  which  Blos- 
som, in  reply  to  her  inquiries,  assured  her  had  never 
arrived.  But  Blossom  might  easily  be  deceived:  she 
would  know  for  herself.  It  was  no  easy  task,  with 
nothing  to  guide  her.  She  might  have  spent  hours  in 
the  search,  but  that  a  crumpled  letter,  evidently  tossed 
in  carelessly,  and  buried  under  a  weight  of  more  neatly 
arranged  papers,  caught  her  eye.  Expecting  nothing, 
for  it  was  old  and  worn  in  appearance,  yet  moved  to 
open  it,  she  took  it  from  its  envelope,  and  was  struck  at 
once  by  the  first  words,  "  Nephew  Robert."  This  must 
be  what  she  sought.  She  turned  hastily  to  the  conclu- 
sion ;  but  the  signature  was  illegible,  and  then  she  re- 
membered that  she  had  never  asked  the  name  of  this 
old  man  in  whom  she  felt  so  keen  an  interest.  She  de- 
ciphered the  date  at  the  beginning  of  the  sheet,  and 
found,  to  her  disappointment,  that  it  was  written  months 
before  Blossom's  marriage.  Still  some  fascination  held 
her  eyes  to  the  crooked,  blurred  lines ;  and  she  began 
to  read.  It  was  the  letter  received  months  before  his 
marriage,  urging  Captain  Elyot  to  write  to  the  cousin 
down  on  the  Jersey  shore.  The  tone  was  one  of  re- 
proach as  well  as  menace ;  and  the  inference  gathered 
by  the  woman,  who  spelled  the  words  out  slowly  one  by 
one,  was,  that  the  young  man  owed  allegiance  to  this 
cousin.  She  held  the  letter  long  in  her  hands,  gazing 
at  the  words  which  seemed  to  conceal  so  much.  So  he 
was  false  as  well  as  fickle !  How  long  would  it  be 
before  he  wearied  of  the  child?  She  had  nearly  re- 
placed the  contents  of  the  desk,  when  she  remembered 


252  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

that  she  had  not  yet  found  the  letter  for  which  she  had 
been  searching.  But  she  looked  in  vain,  and  with  less 
interest  now.  Blossom  was  right,  no  doubt.  Captain 
Elyot's  uncle  had  never  written.  It  was  as  the  stranger 
at  the  store  had  said,  —  the  old  man  was  angry.  Cap- 
tain Elyot's  grand  friends  had  turned  against  him ! 
Oh,  what  a  fool  she  had  been  !  She  said  it  to  herself, 
crumpling  the  letter  in  her  hand  as  the  young  man  had 
done,  and  feeling  her  heart  grow  like  a  stone  toward 
him.  East  and  west,  wherever  he  went,  he  had  gained 
the  love  of  some  woman,  only  to  cast  it  aside,  she  said 
to  herself.  It  was  no  triumph  that  Blossom  had  won 
him  at  last.  Her  day,  too,  would  be  brief.  He  had 
given  up  this  cousin  for  the  child, — this  cousin  to 
whom  he  was  promised,  without  doubt,  —  but  he  had 
known  all  the  time  that  Blossom's  inheritance  would  be 
his,  and  it  was  for  this  he  had  pursued  her.  And  she 
had  helped  it  on !  Her  very  opposition  and  harsh 
words  had  brought  it  about  at  last.  She  sat,  with  her 
elbows  upon  the  desk,  holding  her  poor,  dazed  head  in 
her  hands,  until  the  waning  light  in  the  room  warned 
her  to  replace  it,  and  conceal  her  discovery;  for  she 
would  not  act  hastily.  A  judgment  had  come  upon 
her  for  her  rashness,  and  she  would  take  warning  now 
from  the  past.  The  floor  creaked  under  her  feet  as  she 
crossed  the  parlor:  the  heavy  desk  slipped  from  her 
hand  as  she  tried  to  set  it  down.  A  quick,  sharp  voice 
called  out  as  she  stood  still,  with  the  darkness  about 
her  paling  to  the  gray  of  early  morning.  The  click  of 
a  pistol  followed.  Would  he  shoot  her  like  a  thief? 
It  would  be  of  a  piece  with  the  rest,  she  thought  swift- 
ly. The  blood  tingled  in  her  veins,  but  not  with  fear, 
as  she  stood  grim  and  silent,  with  a  sudden  wild  desire 


HIS    INHERITANCE.  253 

for  this  to  come  and  end  it  all,  thrilling  her  through 
and  through.  Then  every  thing  was  still  again ;  and 
she  crept  away,  to  lie  on  her  bed  in  the  dawning  light, 
and  try  to  plan  out  the  future. 

Does  an  angel  with  a  flaming  sword  stand  always  in 
the  way  to  turn  us  back  from  our  evil  purposes  ?  I  think 
not :  more  often  the  road  seems  to  open ;  and  opportu- 
nity makes  the  path  to  destruction  smooth  and  swift  to 
our  feet. 

The  time  slid  by  to  Blossom,  who  knew  that  these 
happy  days  might  come  to  a  sudden  end,  from  the  suc- 
cession of  changes  in  the  garrison,  as  summer  drew 
near.  Jagged  days  they  were  to  Mrs.  Stubbs,  moodily 
biding  her  time,  and  giving  little  heed  apparently  to 
outward  events.  As  summer  approached,  preparations 
were  made  for  a  general  movement  against  the  Indians, 
who  had  gathered  in  great  force  along  the  Smoky  Hill, 
becoming  more  and  more  troublesome  as  the  season 
advanced.  Lieutenant  Orme  had  never  returned  to  the 
post ;  and  one  after  another  the  officers,  with  their  com- 
mands, were  drawn  away,  until  barely  a  sufficient  num- 
ber of  men  to  guard  the  fort  was  left.  Captain  Elyot's 
turn  came  at  last. 

With  scarcely  men  enough  to  garrison  the  post,  and 
their  enemies  strengthening  around  them,  it  was  found 
necessary  to  communicate  with  some  of  the  more  north- 
ern forts.  Orders  from  headquarters  finally  rendered 
this  imperative. 

Captain  Elyot  and  Lieutenant  Gibbs  were  the  only 
officers  who  could  be  spared ;  and  upon  them  fell  this 
dangerous  service.  With  a  small  body  of  men  and  a 
couple  of  scouts,  they  were  to  make  their  way  —  through 
what  was,  much  of  the  distance,  an  ambushed  wilder- 


254  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

ness  —  to  the  Platte  River ;  neither  the  first  time  nor  the 
last  that  a  force  too  large  to  conceal  its  movements,  and 
too  small  to  defend  itself,  has  been  sent  into  the  very 
heart  of  the  Indian  country. 

"Be  a  brave  girl,"  said  Captain  Elyot  to  his  wife, 
though  his  own  cheek  paled  with  the  news  he  brought. 
"  You  knew  that  this  must  come  when  you  promised  to 
be  a  soldier's  wife." 

But  Blossom  had  fainted  away  in  his  arms. 

There  was  little  time  for  preparation  :  there  was  even 
less  for  adieus.  He  strained  the  lifeless  form  to  his 
breast ;  then,  not  daring  to  linger,  lest  his  courage  should 
give  way,  hastily  gave  her  into  Mrs.  Stubbs's  arms,  too 
greatly  agitated  to  observe  the  strange  excitement  which 
seemed  to  pervade  the  woman  as  she  bore  her  daughter 
off,  and  laid  her  upon  her  bed.  But,  when  Blossom's 
face  touched  the  pillow,  she  came  to  herself  with  a  moan. 
It  drew  her  husband  back  to  her,  —  that  feeble  sound 
like  a  wail.  He  threw  himself  upon  his  knees  beside 
the  bed,  and  laid  his  face  against  hers.  Through  the 
open  window  came  peaceful,  droning,  summer  sounds, 
mingled  with  the  sobs  of  some  soldier's  wife  and  the  tram- 
pling of  uneasy  hoofs.  Already  the  little  company  who 
were  to  march  had  gathered.  The  women  had  run  out, 
and  every  idler  drawn  near  to  see  them  ride  away. 

"  Don't,  child ;  don't  grieve  so.  I  shall  come  back 
to  you.  Do  you  hear  me,  Blossom  ?  " 

The  bugle  sounded  "  To  horse ! "  He  kissed  her  pas- 
sionately. 

"  Remember,"  he  said  to  her  mother,  who  took  his 
place  beside  the  bed,  "  I  shall  come  back."  Then  he  was 
gone. 

His  foot  was  in  the  stirrup  when  a  tottering  figure 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  255 

came  out  of  the  doorway.  It  was  Blossom,  her  dress 
in  disorder,  her  hair  falling  over  her  shoulders,  her  face 
white  as  death.  She  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck 
before  them  all. 

"  For  God's  sake  don't,  or  I  can  never  go  !  "  he  said, 
with  a  sob  like  a  groan,  his  face  as  white  as  her  own. 

It  was  the  major  himself  who  took  her  in  his  arms, 
and  carried  her  into  the  house.  And  no  one  looked 
after  the  poor  young  wife  with  scorn  to-day.  Even  the 
women  gave  her  a  tear. 

Another  good-by  had  been  said  that  morning,  at  the 
major's,  between  Claudia  and  Lieutenant  Gibbs,  who  was 
her  accepted  lover  now;  for  Claudia  had  determined 
to  make  hay  while  the  sun  shone,  knowing  full  well 
that  that  luminary  was  on  its  decline  for  her.  It  was 
not,  perhaps,  the  best  of  hay,  though  some  there  are 
who  affirm  the  aftermath  to  be  sweetest.  Claudia  was 
not  of  this  opinion.  But  at  least  it  was  better  than 
none ;  and  so  she  gathered  it  in  with  some  haste  and 
dexterity,  not  knowing  what  storms  might  arise. 

There  were  tears  in  the  lieutenant's  eyes  as  he  took 
her  bloodless  hands  in  his. 

"  You  won't  forget  me  ?  Some  of  these  men  coming 
and  going  are  sure  to  fall  in  love  with  you ;  but 
Claudia  "  — 

"  How  silly  to  think  of  such  a  thing,  when  you  know 
we  are  engaged ! "  replied  Claudia,  with  practical  wis- 
dom, and  trying  to  release  the  hands  which  the  poor 
fellow  was  crushing  in  his  own. 

"  I  suppose  I  am  a  fool,"  the  man  said,  swallowing 
something  which  rose  in  his  throat,  "  though  a  fellow 
don't  like  to  be  reminded  of  it.  But  you  see,  Claudia, 
I  never  wanted  any  other  girl ;  and — and  I  used  to  feel 


256  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

as  if  I  could  shoot  Elyot  when  he  was  coming  here. 
But  you  didn't  care  for  him  ?  " 

Did  Claudia  feel  a  tightening  at  her  own  throat  which 
sent  the  color  into  her  face  ? 

"Why  do  you  ask  me  that  over  and  over  again?" 
she  said  irritably. 

"Because  I'm  a  fool,  I  suppose."  And  the  man 
laughed  an  uneasy  laugh.  "  But  just  once  more,  Clau- 
dia. I'm  going  away,  you  know,  and  maybe  —  you 
liked  me  better  all  the  while,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course,"  said  poor  Claudia,  thus  driven  to 
the  wall. 

"  I  knew  you  did.  Only  I  wish  you  wouldn't  say  '  of 
course.'  And  you're  sorry  I'm  going  ?  I'm  such  a  con- 
founded fool ! "  burst  out  the  poor  fellow,  turning 
abruptly  away,  and  staring  out  at  the  window. 

"To  be  sure  I  am  sorry,"  said  Claudia,  softening. 
Had  she  gone  too  far  in  her  impatience?  But  why 
would  he  persist  in  irritating  her  ?  She  laid  her  hand 
upon  his  arm.  It  was  the  hand  with  his  ring  upon  it, 
and  it  showed  very  white  against  the  dark-blue  sleeve. 
She  could  but  notice  how  very  becoming  the  ring  was 
with  its  handsome  stone.  The  lieutenant,  as  well  as 
Captain  Elyot,  had  some  expectations.  His  were  not 
at  all  to  be  compared  with  those  of  the  latter,  —  which, 
to  do  Claudia  justice,  had  not  weighed  as  a  feather  with 
the  girl,  —  but  they  were  by  no  means  to  be  despised. 

"  How  can  you  ask  if  I  am  sorry  ?  "  and  her  voice  was 
reproachful,  if  not  tender.  "  If  any  harm  should  come 
to  you,  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do."  Nor  did  she 
indeed.  "  And  if  you  don't  let  me  hear  from  you  when 
the  scout  comes  back  from  Fort  Wallace  "  — 

"  I  will ;  you  may  be  sure  I  will." 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  257 

And  then  the  bugle  which  had  called  Captain  Elyot 
away  sounded  for  this  lover  also.  He  could  have  taken 
the  girl  in  his  arms  at  this  last  moment,  but  that  her 
calmness  chilled  him.  She  held  up  her  face  dutifully 
to  be  kissed.  The  young  man  swallowed  a  sigh,  which 
was  half  a  sob,  as  he  turned  away  from  her.  He  had 
gained  what  he  had  long  desired.  Claudia  was  his. 
But  perhaps  all  apples  have  a  taste  of  ashes  at  the  core. 
"  It  is  her  way,"  he  said ;  but  he  mounted  his  horse  with 
something  very  like  a  stone  for  a  heart.  He  looked 
back  as  he  rode  slowly  by  with  the  troops.  The  women 
had  all  run  out  of  open  doors.  A  sudden  shower  dar- 
kened the  sky,  and  fell  in  great  plashing  drops,  like 
tears  held  back  long.  They  wet  more  than  one  uncov- 
ered head ;  but  Claudia  had  gone  in  prudently  out  of 
the  rain,  and  the  house  was  blank  and  voiceless  when 
the  lieutenant  rode  out  with  the  rest. 


258  HIS   INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THROUGH  THE  WILDERNESS. 

~\  /TIDSUMMER  had  spread  its  net  of  coarse,  tufted 
-LV-L  grasses,  already  growing  yellow  under  a  scorch- 
ing sun.  The  streams  had  shrunk  away  to  half  their 
size,  the  lesser  ones  reduced  to  bare,  dry  skeletons 
stretched  upon  the  sand.  Day  after  day  a  cloudless  sky 
arched  the  plains  —  a  dead  blue  over  Fort  Atchison, 
where  no  tidings  of  Captain  Elyot's  party  had  been  re- 
ceived, though  six  weeks  had  passed  since  they  set  off 
toward  the  north.  But  it  was  not  unreasonable  to  sup- 
pose that  they  might  have  been  detained  at  Fort  Hark- 
ness,  their  destination  on  the  Platte,  or  ordered  upon 
duty  in  some  other  direction.  Since  nothing  good  or 
ill  was  really  known  of  them,  but  little  anxiety  was 
expressed  in  words  as  yet ;  though  many  a  shake  of  the 
head  followed  any  reference  to  the  men  who  rode  away 
under  a  cloudy  sky,  and  with  the  rain  falling  upon  them. 

"  T'was  an  ill  omen,"  Sergeant  McDougal  said  confi- 
dentially to  Mrs.  Bryce's  Jinny. 

In  spite  of  his  diminutive  size.,  the  sergeant  presented 
a  terrible  appearance,  with  his  bold,  gruff  manner,  and 
great,  bushy  brows,  which  almost  met  above  his  sharp 
gray  eyes.  But  they  smoothed  themselves  out  in  a  won- 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  259 

derful  way,  and  he  touched  his  cap  almost  gallantly  as 
Blossom  tripped  past  the  two,  bound  on  some  errand  to 
the  store. 

"Her's  a  neat  one,"  the  sergeant  ejaculated  admir- 
ingly, as  his  eyes  followed  the  pretty  figure  in  its  taste- 
ful gown.  But  to  this  tribute  of  admiration  was  added 
an  ominous  shake  of  the  head. 

Every  one  at  the  post,  by  this  time,  held  his  or  her 
own  secret  belief  as  to  the  fate  of  the  missing  party. 
Major  Bryce  had  presented  an  untroubled  front  to  the 
world,  which  knew  nothing  as  to  the  nature  of  the  de- 
spatches forwarded  by  Captain  Elyot ;  but  he  could  not 
hide  his  anxiety  from  the  wife  of  his  bosom,  nor  she 
from  Claudia.  The  major  was  irritable  —  outrageous, 
as  Claudia  described  it  —  in  his  own  family. 

"  And  no  wonder ! "  said  Mrs.  Bryce  to  Claudia,  who, 
herself  vexed  and  harassed  by  fears,  had  declared  life 
under  the  present  circumstances  to  be  unbearable. 
"  He  may  well  be  ill-tempered,  when  he  scarcely  sleeps 
an  hour  of  the  night." 

And  Claudia  could  easily  believe  this,  since  in  her 
own  hours  of  wakefulness,  more  frequent  than  she 
would  have  cared  to  acknowledge,  she  had  heard  him, 
through  the  thin  partitions,  groaning  and  tossing  upon 
his  bed.  Even  to  his  wife  he  had  not  yet  confessed 
that  a  certain  combination  of  forces  which  was  to  be 
expected  through  the  delivery  of  these  despatches  had 
never  been  brought  about.  What,  then,  had  become 
of  these  men  whom  he  sent  out  ?  "  God  knows,"  he 
said  to  himself  in  answer  to  the  question  arising  every 
hour  of  the  day  and  night.  Each  arrival  at  the  post, 
every  straggling  party  of  Indians  professing  friendship, 
and  drawing  near  the  fort  to  beg  or  steal,  was  closely 


260  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

questioned,  but  without  result.  The  sight  of  Blossom's 
troubled  face  annoyed  him.  He  turned  short  about  in 
his  steps  when  she  or  Mrs.  Stubbs  appeared,  and  would 
have  avoided  his  own  daughter  if  it  had  been  possible. 
Since  it  was  not,  he  bristled  with  ill-humor,  which  kept 
her  at  a  distance. 

But  Claudia  was  not  disposed  to  question  him.  She 
could  read  without  a  book ;  and  she  saw  her  own  de- 
sirable prospects  connected  a  second  time  with  Captain 
Elyot's  fate,  and  again  fading  away.  It  was  not  strange 
that  she  became  more  thin  and  unattractive  than  ever. 
Her  toilet,  Miss  Bryce's  strong  point,  was  neglected: 
the  very  grace  of  her  manner  seemed  to  depart.  Poor 
Claudia !  Disappointment  was  her  fate,  she  thought 
bitterly.  She  had  been  born  under  an  evil  star.  And 
she  might  have  been  happy,  yes,  and  amiable  —  for  she 
was  well  aware  of  her  ill-temper,  which  appeared  to 
her  to  be  not  without  a  cause  —  if  only  matters  had 
come  about  as  she  had  wished.  Even  her  prospective 
marriage  with  Lieutenant  Gibbs,  which  had  seemed 
very  little  to  rejoice  over,  began  to  show  most  desirable 
features,  now  that  it  had  become  a  matter  of  doubt.  If 
she  failed  in  this,  there  was  nothing  more  to  hope  for. 
Perhaps  it  was  anxiety,  the  anxiety  which  other  women 
felt  whose  lovers  were  long  absent  and  in  the  midst  of 
danger,  which  so  broke  down  her  spirit.  She  tried  to  be- 
lieve it  was  this,  and  to  take  some  comfort  in  the  reflec- 
tion. But,  whatever  else  she  might  be,  the  girl  was  not 
wilfully  self-deceptive,  and  she  knew  that  she  thought 
of  the  lieutenant  with  no  agonized  tenderness.  The 
agony  was  for  herself,  who  was  to  suffer  defeat.  And 
she  had  no  reserve  of  hope  or  happiness  on  some  high 
plain  beyond  this  conflict. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  261 

As  Blossom  came  back  from  the  store,  she  met  Miss 
Bryce  face  to  face.  Though  the  interests  of  these  two 
were  so  closely  tied  together  just  now,  it  had  not  placed 
them  upon  a  more  friendly  footing.  They  had  never 
exchanged  a  word  beyond  that  of  ordinary  greeting, 
very  distant  and  haughty  upon  one  side,  when  they 
chanced  to  meet,  as  now.  As  Claudia  saw  Captain 
Elyot's  wife  approaching  hurriedly,  almost  as  if  to  in- 
tercept her,  carefully  dressed  as  though  there  were  no 
days  of  tearful  waiting,  no  agony  of  disappointment  in 
store  for  her,  her  heart  hardened  more  than  ever  toward 
the  girl.  She  hated  her  for  her  pretty,  dimpled  face, 
which  had  lost  much  of  its  fresh  color  in  these  weeks 
of  waiting  for  her  husband's  return,  though  Blossom 
had  felt  scarcely  any  apprehension  of  danger  to  him, 
so  carefully  had  her  mother  guarded  her  from  the  bale- 
ful surmises  and  reports  flying  about  the  small  garrison. 
As  she  came  on,  with  the  rude,  weather-stained  bar- 
racks behind  her  to  set  off  her  neat  figure,  Miss  Bryce 
marked  with  a  disapproval  mingled  with  scorn,  the 
fresh  though  unadorned  dress  —  something  sheer  and 
white,  with  bunches  of  thistles  scattered  over  its  sur- 
face —  in  which  Blossom  was  arrayed.  She,  the  major's 
daughter,  had  not  decked  herself  out  in  fine  clothes 
while  her  lover  was  —  no  one  knew  where.  And,  in- 
deed, Miss  Bryce's  gown  was  both  limp  and  frayed  at 
the  edge.  She  became  all  at  once  angrily  aware  of  this 
fact  as  she  essayed  to  pass  the  younger  woman  without 
a  word.  But  Blossom  stood  directly  in  her  path,  as 
though  she  would  address  her. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  began  timidly;  "but  I 
thought  you  would  not  mind  telling  me  the  truth. 
Every  one  avoids  me :  no  one  will  answer  me  when  I 


262  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

ask.  But  you  will  tell  me  —  is  it  not  time  to  hear 
from  them?  Ought  they  not  to  have  come  back  before 
now?" 

Claudia  gazed  upon  the  distressed  face,  reddening 
and  paling  under  her  cold  stare.  Oh !  how  she  could 
make  this  little  thing's  heart  ache  if  she  chose  !  and 
with  the  truth  too.  For  it  was  indeed  time  that  the 
scouts,  if  no  one  else,  should  have  worked  their  way 
back ;  and  there  was  every  tiling  to  fear,  every  dreadful 
news  to  expect,  she  knew  only  too  well.  And  why 
should  this  girl  not  be  told?  Who  was  she,  that  it 
should  be  kept  from  her,  while  Claudia  herself  must  be 
torn  with  fears  ? 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  ?  "  she  said  in  a  sharp  voice. 
She  could  not  bring  herself  to  utter  the  cruel  words. 
"  How  should  I  know  any  thing  about  them  ?  " 

"  Oh !  but  you  do  know.  Dear  Miss  Bryce,  do  not 
be  angry,  or  afraid  that  I  cannot  bear  it.  I  am  not  a 
child  any  longer.  You  have  heard  something.  I  can 
see  it  in  your  face."  The  color  had  entirely  vanished 
from  Blossom's  cheeks. 

"I  have  heard  nothing  at  all,"  Claudia  said  in  a 
harsh  voice,  her  own  distress  rising  to  angry  impatience 
at  the  sight  of  Blossom's  woe.  "Nobody  has  heard 
any  thing."  And  then,  as  the  young  wife's  detaining 
hand  fell  away  from  her  sleeve,  she  passed  on  with  her 
burden  of  jealous,  wrathful  misery,  leaving  Blossom  to 
bear  her  own  apprehensions  as  best  she  might. 

But  while  these  days  of  uncertainty  and  foreboding 
were  moving  on  slowly  at  the  fort,  how  had  it  fared 
with  the  little  company  of  men  who  rode  away  one 
summer  morning  toward  the  north  ? 

If  the  sun  shines  fiercely  down  upon  Fort  Atcliisoii 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  263 

in  this  midsummer  time,  it  pours  with  a  still  more  torrid 
heat  upon  that  portion  of  the  sage-brush  country,  away 
to  the  north  and  east  of  this  post,  where,  one  August 
morning,  a  solitary  man  staggers  feebly  on  over  the 
treacherous  ground.  He  is  tattered  and  unkempt.  He 
is  worn  to  a  skeleton.  His  bare,  torn  feet  leave  prints 
of  blood  at  every  feeble  step.  Ah,  Blossom !  could  you 
see  him  now,  your  pale  cheeks  would  be  paler  yet,  your 
young  heart  would  break  for  sorrow.  He  struggles 
forward,  climbing  the  ridge  of  land  which  seems  to  bar 
the  north,  gaining  the  crest  of  the  hill  upon  his  hands 
and  knees,  only  to  burst  into  weak  tears  as  he  sinks 
back  at  the  prospect  disclosed.  The  north-west  wind 
has  brought  a  sickening  odor  he  knows  only  too  well ; 
while  away  in  the  distance  a  desert  of  sage-brush 
stretches  out  before  him,  a  wilderness  of  desolation; 
and,  as  if  to  mock  him,  against  the  distant  horizon,  like 
a  promise  never  to  be  fulfilled,  the  very  air  shines  and 
ripples,  and  sparkles  like  water,  —  a  mirage  he  has  pur- 
sued too  many  days  already  to  be  deceived  by  it  now. 

Why  follow  each  step  of  exhaustion,  of  pain,  of 
loss  of  reason  at  last?  There  were  days  of  feverish 
wanderings ;  there  were  nights  of  delirious  dreams. 
And  through  it  all,  strange  though  it  be  to  tell,  a 
voice  in  his  ear  urged  him  on  continually,  a  hand  by 
his  side  pointed  ever  to  the  north.  What  held  the 
feeble  thread  of  life  unbroken?  It  may  be  that  the 
very  reptiles  of  the  earth  were  his  food.  There  came  a 
time  when  they  mingled  with  his  insane  fancies ;  they 
swarmed  about  his  feet ;  they  writhed  upon  the  ground, 
—  which  had  all  at  once  changed  to  a  carpet  of  flowers, 
scarlet  and  green  and  yellow,  —  turning  into  glisten- 
ing swords  as  he  approached,  and  piercing  his  bleeding 


264  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

feet.  But  he  nourished  himself  upon  the  juicy  spines 
of  the  cacti  which  had  wounded  him;  and,  when  these 
failed,  he  must  have  died,  if  the  rainy  season  had  not 
set  in. 

One  night,  lying  half  conscious  under  the  stars,  their 
light  became  suddenly  obscured.  The  earth  beneath 
him  trembled ;  the  heavens  above  him  were  rent ;  and 
the  angry  voice  of  God  seemed  to  come  forth.  He 
thought  the  last  dreadful  day  had  arrived.  After 
death,  the  judgment!  and  his  throbbing  heart  stood 
still  while  he  waited  for  his  summons. 

Then,  like  words  of  forgiveness  unexpectedly  follow- 
ing wrong-doing,  like  dews  of  mercy  gently  falling, 
came  trickling  drops  upon  his  face ;  and  at  last,  with  a 
mighty,  rushing  wind,  the  blessed  rain  fell.  It  cooled 
the  fevered  body ;  it  quenched  the  fire  upon  the  parched 
tongue,  and,  drenching  the  ground  (baked  like  no  pot- 
ter's ware),  formed  pools  in  its  dry  hollows.  He  scooped 
it  up  with  his  trembling  hands,  and  drank.  He  played 
with  it,  letting  the  drops  trickle  from  his  fingers,  and 
laughing  aloud.  He  plunged  his  hot  face  into  it,  and, 
stretching  himself  out  upon  the  drenched  earth,  slept 
the  sleep  of  a  child,  and  awoke  himself  again.  The  sun 
shone  high  over  his  head,  but  no  longer  burned  into  his 
brain.  The  air  was  fresh  and  cool.  The  deathly  odor 
which  he  remembered  so  well  was  gone.  He  looked 
about  him  bewildered.  The  sage-brush  had  disappeared. 
The  whole  face  of  the  country  was  changed.  He  seemed 
to  lie  in  some  sheltered  valley,  green  after  the  rain, 
with  the  hue  of  early  summer.  A  clump  of  willows 
grew  at  a  little  distance.  He  could  see  the  sky,  drifted 
over  with  soft  white  clouds,  through  the  delicate  waving 
branches.  No  bird  broke  the  stillness ;  but  the  trickle 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  265 

of  running  water,  where  some  stream  had  been  newly 
fed  by  the  rain,  sounded  with  delightful  monotony  in 
his  ear.  He  was  weak  as  an  infant,  but  filled  with  a 
wonderful  content.  He  slept,  and  woke  again.  The 
sun  had  shaken  itself  free  from  the  clouds ,  its  warm 
beams  had  dried  his  tattered  garments.  He  crawled  to 
the  stream,  and  drank,  —  a  miraculous  thread  of  water, 
with  its  faint  gurgle,  which  a  day  would  dry  away 
again.  How  he  blessed  it !  But  the  long  dry  season 
was  over  now;  and  if  he  had,  as  he  was  inclined  to 
believe,  kept  to  a  northerly  direction  through  all  his 
delirious  wanderings,  crossing  the  beds  of  sunken 
streams,  and  making  his  way  among  the  bewildering 
buffalo-trails,  deliverance  and  the  Platte  could  not  be 
far  away.  Then  he  remembered  that  he  had  neither 
food  nor  ammunition.  Already  hunger  took  hold  of 
him,  and  with  hunger  came  despair. 

Oh,  to  die  now,  with  the  end  so  near !  To  fail  at  last, 
when  even  the  fever  of  delirium  had  borne  him  on 
toward  the  fulfilment  of  his  purpose  !  He  still  carried 
the  despatches  which  he  had  been  commissioned  to  bear. 
They  were  worthless  long  before  this ;  but  his  duty  to 
deliver  them  was  the  same.  To  die  with  this  almost  ac- 
complished, and  with  no  one  to  carry  a  last  word  to  the 
wife  waiting  for  him  !  Death  would  be  dreadful  enough 
at  best,  —  with  Blossom's  hand  in  his,  and  Blossom's  dear 
face  upon  which  to  rest  his  eyes  last  of  all.  But  to  die 
alone,  and  in  this  wilderness !  And  then  it  came  to  him, 
that,  doubtless  long  before  now,  his  wife  had  ceased  to 
expect  him.  To  her  he  must  be  already  as  one  dead. 
It  might  be  that  some  story  of  the  attack  and  massacre 
of  their  little  party  would  find  its  way  back  to  Fort 
Atchison ;  and  she  would  believe  that  he  had  fallen 


266  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

with  the  rest.  It  was  not  possible  that  any  one  beside 
himself  had  escaped, — and  he  only  to  perish  of  hunger 
at  last !  But  he  would  not  die  without  an  effort.  And 
he  staggered  upon  his  feet,  and  moved  feebly  forward. 
All  was  indeed  changed.  The  ridges  above  him  were 
tufted  with  ash  and  walnut  and  cotton-wood.  While  he 
gazed,  a  herd  of  antelopes  swept  by,  their  white  tails 
fluttering  like  pennons  in  the  wind.  Involuntarily  he 
put  his  hand  to  his  breast ;  but  his  revolver  was  useless, 
even  if  his  hand  could  have  held  it  steadily  to  the  mark. 

But  he  was  not  tp  die  here.  He  had  not  made  his  way 
through  the  wilderness  to  perish  in  the  midst  of  plenty. 
Toward  night,  as  he  crept  out  of  a  thicket  of  walnut, 
struggling  at  every  step  against  the  deathly  faintness 
which  threatened  to  overpower  him,  he  came  all  at  once 
upon  a  deserted  Indian  camp.  It  thrilled  him  with 
terror  to  find  that  the  ashes  of  the  fire  were  hardly  yet 
cold.  But  hunger  was  stronger  than  fear;  and  the 
half-devoured  carcass  of  an  elk,  left  behind  from  some 
sudden  alarm,  or  improvidence  in  the  midst  of  plenty, 
banished  all  fear  of  starvation.  There  was  enough  for 
present  need  and  to  provision  days  to  come,  —  more  than 
enough ;  for  his  stomach  at  first  refused  to  retain  the  un- 
accustomed food.  He  slaked  his  thirst  at  a  little  stream 
flowing  out,  with  many  a  gurgle,  from  the  thicket  close 
by,  and,  trembling  and  weak,  crawled  into  its  depths  to 
sleep  till  another  dawn  reddened  the  land,  and  even 
found  him  out  in  his  hiding-place. 

It  would  seem  as  if  all  difficulties  were  removed  now. 
Frequent  showers  were  beginning  to  fill  the  dry  beds  of 
the  streams.  He  had  but  to  regain  the  appetite  which 
had  preyed  upon  him  when  he  had  nothing  with  which 
to  satisfy  it,  and  had  utterly  deserted  him  now,  so  that 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  267 

the  very  thought  of  the  food  he  carried  was  nauseating, 
—  only  this,  and  to  push  on  toward  the  river.  Hut 
dreadful  cramps  seized  him  continually,  leaving  him 
more  exhausted  than  ever  after  each  attack ;  and,  as 
these  gradually  passed  away,  new  and  forgotten  dangers 
awoke.  Often  the  trail  of  unshod  ponies  met  his  eyes, 
or  the  smoke  of  a  distant  camp-fire  aroused  both  hopes 
and  fears,  neither  of  which  he  dared  put  to  the  test 
after  the  first  attempt,  when,  as  he  approached  cau- 
tiously, the  barking  of  dogs  and  whinnying  of  Indian 
ponies  warned  him  away.  Once  even,  at  nightfall,  an 
Indian  sentinel,  gay  with  vermilion  and  red  ochre,  started 
out  upon  the  crest  of  a  bluff  above  him.  He  dropped 
to  the  ground,  quaking  with  fear,  to  lie  motionless,  until, 
in  the  deeper  shadows  of  night,  he  could  retrace  his  steps, 
and,  by  a  wide  detour,  avoid  the  spot. 

All  manner  of  long-neglected  precautions  were  taken 
up  again.  Life  grew  dearer  every  moment.  Neither  eye 
nor  ear  slept  at  its  post  as  his  impatience  urged  him  011 
far  beyond  his  strength.  Choosing  the  most  worn  among 
the  buffalo-trails  leading  in  and  out  in  the  midst  of  the 
more  and  more  broken  land ;  swimming  or  wading  the 
streams  (already  made  formidable  by  the  rains)  with  a 
fierce  energy  which  left  him  exhausted,  and  unable  to 
move  for  long  hours  afterward  ;  skulking  behind  trees  at 
some  sudden  alarm,  or  lying  concealed  in  the  bushy  grass 
overlooking  some  deep  ravine,  scorched  by  the  mid-day 
sun,  and  chilled  by  the  night-air  (icy  as  though  from 
a  glacier) ;  often  drenched  by  fierce  rains,  and  even 
delirious  again  with  fever,  —  he  was  always  pushing  on, 
with  a  spirit  which  far  outstripped  the  poor  shackling 
body.  The  "  breaks  "  were  lessening  fast.  Days  before, 
he  must  have  passed  the  "  divide."  The  hills  were  sink- 


268  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

ing  toward  the  river.     The  river  !     It  was  every  thing, 

—  life,  home,  Blossom  !     But  it  must  yet  be  miles  away, 

—  torturous  miles.     Would  his  poor  strength  hold  out? 
It  was  late  in  the  afternoon :  he  watched  the  declin- 
ing sun  with  only  a  dread  of  the  chill  the  night  would 
bring  —  nothing  more.     No  hope  for  the  morrow  could 
arouse  his  imagination  ;  no  fear  of  death  even  disturbed 
him.     His  compass  had  made  his  way  straight  as  a  line  ; 
but  necessity  had  curved  it  like  the  windings  of  a  stream. 
He  began  the  steep  ascent  of  a  hill,  clutching  the  tufted 
grass  with  his  hands,  with  no  desire  for  what  lay  beyond 
stirring  his  blood,  as,  after  repeated  and  painful  efforts, 
he  gained  the  summit.    It  was  sprinkled  over  with  alders, 
waving  gently  before  the  rising  breeze.     The  sun  was 
dropping  out  of  sight  over  the  crest  of  a  distant  peak; 
but  its  ruddy  fire  warmed  all   the  sky,  faintly  flushing 
the  nearer  hills  even,  while  hollow  and  valley  lay  dar- 
kened between.     The  poor  toiler  lay  panting  upon  the 
grass.     The  wind,  rising  more  and  more,  caught  his  torn 
garments,  and  seemed  to  chill  his  very  bones.     Oh,  how 
cruelly  cold  would  the  night  be  !     He  must  try  to  crawl 
a  little  farther,  to  a  more  sheltered  spot.     He  rose  upon 
his  feet,  and  turned  toward  the  landscape  over  which  his 
weary  way  must  pass  for  many  a  day  yet.     There  was 
no  eagerness,  there  was  not  even  curiosity,  in  this  dull 
gaze.     He  had  toiled  painfully  up  many  a  steep  place  the 
past  few  days,  only  to  find  the  land  scooped  out  before 
him,  and  other  "  breaks  "  rising  like  a  very  procession 
of  hills  beyond.    He  pushed  the  tangled  hair  away  from 
his  bloodshot  eyes.    Then  he  gazed  as  though  the  heav- 
ens had  opened  before  him.    For  there,  spread  out  to  his 
bewildered  vision,  green  as  the  borders  of  the  rivers  of 
the  promised  land,  lay  the  valley  of  the  Platte,  with  the 


HIS    INHERITANCE.  269 

shimmer  of  its  waters  in  the  distance,  and  its  islands 
fringed  with  trees.  He  ran,  forgetting  his  poor,  maimed 
feet.  He  threw  up  his  arms,  and  shouted,  careless  of 
who  might  hear  the  feeble  cry,  and  then  —  he  fell  upon 
his  knees,  and  wept  like  a  child. 

But,  his  heart  once  relieved,  he  could  not  rest  here, 
with  the  blessed  goal  so  near.  Though  he  staggered 
like  'a  drunken  man,  he  rose,  and  hastened  on.  The 
grass  snared  his  feet.  More  than  once  he  fell ;  but  he 
struggled  up  to  run  again  He  was  going  away  from 
Blossom ;  yet  every  step  brought  him  nearer  to  her. 

Darkness  still  found  him  hastening  toward  the  river, 
which  eluded  him  as  he  went  on.  Sometimes  it  was 
hidden  from  sight ;  but  the  next  rise  of  land  brought  it 
in  view  again,  —  a  silvery,  waving  line  as  the  sun  faded 
out  in  the  west.  He  threw  himself  upon  the  ground 
to  sleep ;  but  there  was  no  sleep  for  him.  The  water 
seemed  to  ripple  and  sparkle  and  beckon  him  on,  the 
trees  upon  the  bank  to  nod  and  wave  in  the  night- 
wind  ;  and  under  the  rising  moon  he  rose,  and  dragged 
himself  forward  again.  It  was  only  when  he  had  struck 
the  broad,  well-beaten  trail  which  followed  the  course 
of  the  river,  and,  twenty  years  ago,  bound  East  and 
West  together  like  a  chain,  that  Nature  demanded  her 
own  at  last,  and  he  slept. 

A  wagon-train  met  him  before  noon  the  next  day,  as 
he  was  limping  along  the  trail  toward  the  east,  uncer- 
tain if  this  were  the  course  lie  should  pursue.  The 
party  gave  him  food,  arid  would  have  heard  his  story ; 
but,  when  he  learned  that  Fort  Harkness  was  only  five 
miles  away,  his  demon  of  impatience  spurred  him  on 
again. 

The  dust  blinded  his  eyes.     The  old  dreaded  dizzi- 


270  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

ness  came  back  to  his  head.  The  coarse  shoes  which 
some  kind-hearted  teamster  had  taken  from  his  own  feet 
to  force  upon  him  only  tortured  him  afresh.  He  threw 
them  off,  and  limped  on  in  his  naked,  swollen  feet.  More 
than  once  he  dropped  by  the  way,  with  Blossom's  name 
upon  his  lips,  and  the  thought  in  his  heart  that  he 
should  never  rise  again ;  and  it  was  almost  night  when 
he  approached  the  stockade  of  the  fort  at  last. 

A  party  of  young  officers  on  horseback,  curvetting 
and  careering  over  the  grassy  slope  before  the  gate, 
saw  this  strange  figure  drawing  near. 

"  Good  God !     Who  comes  here  ?  "  exclaimed  one. 

"  Show  me  the  officer  in  command,"  he  said,  in  a 
voice  which  sounded  strange  and  hollow  in  his  own 
ears,  as  they  gathered  round  him.  The  group  parted ; 
and  a  man  of  spare  figure,  with  long,  fair  hair  flowing 
over  his  shoulders,  came  riding  to  the  front.  Then 
Captain  Elyot  made  one  last  mighty  effort.  Drawing 
his  wasted  figure  with  difficulty  to  an  erect  position,  he 
gave  the  military  salute.  "I  —  I  am  —  the  bearer  of 
despatches,"  he  said,  with  a  quaver  in  his  voice.  He 
pulled  from  his  bosom  the  worn  papers  he  had  carried 
so  long,  and  gave  them  with  a  steady  hand  to  the  com- 
manding officer.  Then  he  fell  to  the  ground  uncon- 
scious. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  271 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  BORDERS  OF  AN  INVISIBLE  LAND. 

"1 FERE,  some  of  you  pick  the  poor  fellow  up,"  said 
J — L  the  colonel,  turning  his  horse,  and  carelessly 
opening  the  papers  put  into  his  hand,  by  no  means 
sure  that  he  was  not  imposed  upon  by  some  witless 
straggler.  But,  at  the  heading  of  the  first,  he  exclaimed, 
"Fort  Atchison?  And  dated  more  than  two  months 
back?"  Then,  reading  on  hurriedly,  "Can  these  be 
the  missing  despatches  sent  by  Elyot's  party?  Good 
Heavens  !  Could  that  have  been  one  of  them  ?  "  And, 
putting  spurs  to  his  horse,  he  dashed  into  the  fort  to  find 
the  stranger  already  in  the  hands  of  the  surgeon,  and 
raving  with  fever.  But  he  was  a  stranger  no  longer. 
A  bath,  and  the  removal  of  the  tangled  hair  and 
beard  established  his  identity  beyond  question.  It  was 
Captain  Elyot  himself,  preserved  alive  as  by  a  mira- 
cle, escaped,  no  one  could  tell  how,  when  all  of  his 
party,  with  the  exception  of  two  who  had  regained 
Fort  Atchison,  were  believed  to  have  been  overcome 
and  killed  by  the  Indians.  A  messenger  from  Fort 
Wallace,  some  weeks  before,  had  brought  the  news: 
they  had  been  surprised  by  a  band  of  Sioux.  Lieuten- 
ant Gibbs  and  one  of  the  scouts  only  had  escaped,  and 


272  HIS   INHEEITANCE. 

after  weeks  of  lying  concealed,  and  wandering  in  the 
midst  of  peril,  had  found  their  way  back  to  Fort  Atchi- 
son.  The  scout  asserted  positively  that  he  had  seen 
Captain  Elyot  fall ;  and  the  young  man  was  therefore 
given  up  for  dead.  To  behold  him  now,  even  in  his 
present  wasted,  pitiable  condition,  was  like  receiving 
one  from  the  grave.  All  that  could  add  to  his  comfort 
or  lessen  his  sufferings  was  eagerly  proffered  by  the 
men  about  him ;  but,  in  the  strange  land  where  his 
mind  still  wandered,  friends  could  not  reach  him,  and 
sympathy  was  of  no  avail.  From  the  ravings  of  his 
fever  they  gathered  some  knowledge  of  his  past  suffer- 
ings. Again  he  seemed  to  live  that  dreadful  time,  and 
with  an  agony  a  thousand-fold  increased,  since  it  had 
found  expression  at  last. 

It  was  useless  to  think  of  sending  tidings  of  his  es- 
cape to  Fort  Atchison.  The  combined  action  of  the 
troops,  through  the  failure  of  this  attempt  to  communi- 
cate with  Fort  Harkness,  had  been  temporarily  aban- 
doned. The  whole  country  between  the  two  posts 
swarmed  with  Indians,  among  whom  no  small  party 
could  safely  make  its  way.  Added  to  this,  the  forces 
at  the  fort  had  been  heavily  drawn  upon  from  the 
north ;  and  there  remained  nothing  to  be  done  but  to 
await  their  return  and  the  restoration  of  reason  and 
strength  to  Captain  Elyot,  if,  indeed,  these  were  ever 
to  be  his  again. 

For  a  long  month  fevev  and  delirium  held  possession 
of  him.  Then  he  awoke  from  a  heavy  sleep,  with  his 
own  soul  looking  out  of  his  troubled  eyes. 

"  Where  ? "  he  whispered  feebly,  perplexed  by  the 
strangeness  about  him. 

They  told  him. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  273 

"What  day?" 

"  Monday." 

"  No,  no  !     What  day  ?  "  anxiously. 

There  was  no  woman's  instinct  to  catch  his  meaning. 
The  men  looked  at  one  another. 

"The  day  of  the  month,"  suggested  some  one  at  a 
venture.  The  young  man's  eager  eyes  seized  upon  the 
speaker.  Yes :  they  understood  him  at  last. 

"The  fourth  of  October." 

He  groaned  aloud.  It  was  the  second  day  of  July 
when  he  had  kissed  Blossom  good-by.  And  did  she 
expect  him  still?  The  words  he  would  speak  eluded 
him.  But  the  agony  of  effort  sent  great  drops  of  per- 
spiration down  his  forehead.  None  of  them  knew  what 
he  would  ask.  They  feared  the  excitement  of  awaken- 
ing in  a  strange  place  had  sent  his  wits  to  wandering 
again. 

"  Yes,  yes.  Go  to  sleep,  there's  a  good  fellow,"  said 
some  one  soothingly. 

But  still  the  hollow  eyes  implored.  The  link  be- 
tween reason  and  speech  was  gone.  Yet  he  struggled 
to  ask  this  question. 

"  It  is  his  wife  :  he  is  trying  to  ask  about  his  wife," 
said  the  first  speaker,  who  had  so  successfully  interpret- 
ed his  former  distress.  The  man  was  a  dull  young 
fellow  on  ordinary  occasions,  with  no  mental  parts  to 
speak  of;  but  he  had  a  wife  of  his  own  at  Laramie,  and 
the  tightening  of  a  stretched  cord  made  him  acute  for 
once. 

The  colonel  came  forward,  and  took  Captain  Elyot's 
wasted  hand  in  his  own. 

"Is  it  news  from  Atchison  you  want?  My  dear 
fellow,  don't  look  so  distressed :  we  have  no  ill  news 


274  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

for  you.  A  scout  from  Fort  Wallace,  ten  days  ago, 
reported  all  well  there  and  at  Atchison.  He  carried 
back  the  tidings  of  your  escape.  So  you  have  only  to 
recover  now,  having  taken  a  good  step  in  that  direction 
already,  thanks  to  Surgeon  Camp  and  half  a  score  of 
nurses." 

The  anxious  face  upon  the  pillow  settled  into  an 
expression  of  peace.  If  this  was  not  what  he  desired, 
the  young  man  was  too  weak  to  comprehend  the  differ- 
ence. Blossom  was  well.  With  that  assurance  his 
feeble  understanding  was  content.  The  process  of 
reasoning,  of  joining  the  broken  threads  in  memory 
only  bewildered  him.  The  line  between  the  real  and 
unreal  had  been  swept  away.  He  would  let  it  all  go 
for  the  present.  Unconsciously  he  slipped  into  forget- 
fulness  and  sleep  again. 

He  began  to  gain  from  this  time.  A  couple  of  weeks 
found  him  able  to  sit  up,  and  relate,  as  best  he  could, 
the  story  of  his  escape,  —  a  broken  story  and  brief,  with 
great  gaps  of  forgetfulness  through  it  all,  —  a  story 
broken  into  fragments  of  recollection,  and  ending  in  a 
burst  of  sobs  he  was  too  weak  to  repress,  over  the  fate 
of  his  companions.  But  his  eagerness  to  return  to  Fort 
Atchison  was  aroused  anew  by  this  attempt  at  a  recital 
of  the  perils  he  had  passed  through  since  leaving  the 
post.  He  would  have  set  off  at  once,  and  alone.  He 
would  have  faced  the  wilderness  again,  if  necessary,  in 
his  wild  desire  to  return ;  but  the  colonel,  wiser  than 
he,  laid  the  command  of  patience  upon  him.  In  two 
or  three  weeks,  at  farthest,  the  forces  north  of  the  river 
would  sweep  south.  He  should  go  with  them,  if  strong 
enough  by  that  time  to  sit  a  horse.  But  days  of 
waiting  have  a  drag  on  their  wheels.  His  impatience 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  275 

grew  with  his  strength,  and  overcame  it  at  last.  He 
received  no  word  from  Blossom,  no  letter,  though  an- 
other scanty  mail  was  brought  through  from  the  south 
by  a  scout.  Was  she  alive  and  well  ?  The  man  knew 
nothing.  He  had  only  come  from  Fort  Wallace,  where 
he  had  picked  up  these  letters,  and  brought  them  on. 

One  night  the  fever  seized  him  again,  feebly  to  be 
sure,  but  with  sufficient  strength  to  prove  itself  still  a 
dangerous  foe. 

"  This  will  never  do,"  said  the  colonel,  entering  his 
room  in  the  morning  to  find  him  weak  and  nerveless. 
"  Nothing  but  the  air  of  Atchison  will  set  you  up,  I 
see.  Can  you  bear  good  news,  Elyot  ?  I  have  arranged 
for  you  to  start  at  once." 

"  At  once  ?  "  Captain  Elyot  turned  his  face  to  the 
wall,  ashamed  of  the  tears  he  could  not  keep  back. 
"  You  forget.  It  might  have  been  possible  a  week  ago," 
he  added,  with  a  touch  of  bitterness  in  his  quavering 
voice. 

"  But  are  you  sure  it  is  impossible  now  ?  "  the  colonel 
went  on  cheerfully,  too  generous  to  weakness  to.  admit 
the  sting  of  the  last  words.  "  You  shall  have  the  best 
ambulance  at  the  post,  and,  to  crown  all,  my  orderly 
for  an  attendant :  a  capital  nurse  he  is  too.  You  have 
tried  him  already.  I  forgot  to  mention  the  mules ;  but 
they  shall  be  as  stout  a  pair  as  we  can  show." 

"  Mules  ?  ambulance  ?  "  murmured  Captain  Elyot. 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure !  My  poor  fellow,  how  did  you 
think  you  were  to  travel  ?  Even  if  the  troops  were  to 
come  in  to-night,  you  could  not  join  them ;  nor  has 
there  been  a  day  since  you  dropped  down  upon  us 
when  you  could  have  mounted  a  horse.  There  has 
been  a  deal  of  fever  in  your  strength,  even  since  you 


276  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

began  to  gain.  Don't  shake  your  head.  The  surgeon 
warned  me  last  week  of  this.  Your  pulse  has  kept  up 
obstinately.  But  now,  after  a  quiet  day  or  two,  he 
thinks  you  will  improve  more  rapidly  to  be  on  the 
march.  —  Is  it  not  so  ?  "  the  colonel  added,  to  the  little, 
bristling  post-surgeon,  who  came  with  a  brisk,  profes- 
sional air  into  the  room  at  the  moment. 

"  Yes,  yes,  to  be  sure !  —  We  shall  turn  you  out  at 
short  notice,"  laughed  Dr.  Camp,  taking  the  colonel's 
place,  and  laying  his  fingers  upon  the  thin  wrist,  almost 
as  colorless  as  the  sheet  beneath  it.  "  H'm ; "  after  a 
moment  of  silence,  nodding  his  head  with  an  air  of 
satisfaction.  "To-morrow,  perhaps.  We  must  take 
advantage  of  this  mild  weather ;  and  I  should  not  mind 
making  one  of  the  party  for  the  first  fifty  miles  or  less. 
A  canter  of  two  or  three  days  would  suit  me  exactly. 
I'm  getting  a  little  stout,  I  fancy.  Eh,  Elyot  ?  "  And 
the  little  man  buttoned  his  coat  with  a  pretence  of  ex- 
treme difficulty  about  his  round  figure. 

"  I  was  going  to  suggest  the  same,  and  will  manage 
to  spa^re  you  an  escort,"  the  colonel  said  with  alacrity. 
"  Blake  will  be  in  within  thirty-six  hours.  I  may  as  well 
give  you  your  orders  now,  Elyot.  You  are  to  proceed 
straight  east  to  Council  Bluffs,  from  which  place  you  will 
descend  the  river  to  Independence.  There,  I  hope  you 
will  be  able  to  dismiss  your  caravan,  if  not,  indeed,  at 
Council  Bluffs  ;  and  you  will  join  the  first  train  bound 
for  the  Arkansas  River,  and  report  to  Major  Bryce  at 
the  earliest  date  possible  ;  though  I  will  not  lay  my  com- 
mands upon  you  to  the  extent  of  insisting  upon  this," 
he  added  with  a  laugh. 

But  Captain  Elyot's  countenance  expressed  more  con- 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  277 

sternation  than  pleasure  at  the  long  route  arranged  for 
him. 

The  colonel  looked  with  a  pity  which  held  no  re- 
proach upon  the  wasted  figure,  hardly  able  to  turn  itself 
feebly  in  the  bed. 

"  My  good  fellow,  you  still  think  you  might  cross  the 
country,  I  see.  A  month  hence,  you  will  thank  me  for 
putting  you  out  of  danger,  and  into  the  way  to  health, 
I  hope.  But,  whether  you  bless  or  blame,"  he  added 
quietly,  "my  responsibility  is  the  same.  I  hope,  to- 
morrow morning  at  this  time,  to  be  wishing  you  a  suc- 
cessful journey,  Captain  Elyot."  And  he  left  the  room. 

Whetter  the  fever  had  really  spent  itself  at  last,  or 
the  prospect  of  setting  off  had  calmed  the  troubled 
spirit  of  the  sick  man,  certain  it  is  he  passed  a  quiet 
night  of  restful  sleep,  and  was  pronounced  in  a  condi- 
tion to  be  moved  the  next  morning.  Surgeon  Camp 
broke  short  the  ordeal  of  leave-taking,  and,  assuming 
entire  direction  of  the  principal  portion  of  the  small 
cavalcade, — the  ambulance  and  its  immediate  attend- 
ants,—  succeeded  in  conveying  it  from  the  fort  without 
overwhelming  bustle  or  excitement. 

It  was  well  for  Captain  Elyot  that  his  journey  began 
as  it  did;  for,  easy  as  it  had  been  made  for  him,  his 
strength  gave  out  more  than  once  during  the  first  day 
or  two ;  and  even  the  energetic  little  surgeon,  who  rode 
always  by  his  side,  feared  the  attempt  had  been  pre- 
mature. He  would  have  turned  the  heads  of  the  mules 
toward  the  fort  again ;  but,  at  this  suggestion,  Captain 
Elyot  evinced  an  excitement  and  dread  more  alarming 
even  than  prostration.  So  they  went  on,  by  slow  stages, 
with  many  a  pause  to  rest,  the  life  of  the  sick  man 


278  HIS  INHEEITANCE. 

ebbing  almost  away  at  times,  but  with  every  flood  gain- 
ing a  little,  —  so  little  that  day  after  day  seemed  to  bring 
no  change,  save  that  the  face  became  more  haggard  and 
weary,  the  eye  more  sunken  arid  dim.  But  the  energetic 
little  surgeon  rubbed  his  hands  more  briskly  after  each 
study  of  the  irregular  pulse.  He  fed  his  patient  with 
nourishing  soups  and  jellies,  —  a  teaspoonful,  a  drop,  the 
wetting  of  his  lips,  if  he  could  do  no  more.  He  fas- 
tened the  curtain  of  the  ambulance  back,  and  let  the 
air  —  clear  and  dry  as  midsummer,  bracing  as  old  wine 
—  touch  his  forehead,  and  lift  his  hair.  And  he  won  his 
reward.  God  allows  us  to  be  dragged  back  from  the 
very  gates  of  death,  sometimes,  by  this  loving  care.  At 
Council  Bluffs  Captain  Elyot  was  able  to  dismiss  both 
ambulance  and  escort  (the  surgeon  had  left  him  some 
days  before)  and  to  go  on  down  the  river  alone  to  In- 
dependence. Here  he  fell  in  with  a  light  wagon-train 
drawn  by  mules  and  on  a  wager  to  reach  Santa  F6 
before  the  first  snow  should  fall.  Joining  this,  he  pur- 
sued again  the  trail  over  which  he  had  passed  the  year 
before,  with  Blossom  his  invisible  companion.  Like  a 
shadow  her  image  followed  him  now ;  not  like  a  shadow, 
for  it  left  him  neither  day  nor  night.  In  the  weary 
ride,  day  after  day,  or  when  he  bivouacked  under  the 
stars,  growing  brighter  every  night,  he  found  himself 
humming  the  refrain  of  her  simple  songs,  or  recalling 
a  thousand  of  her  innocent  words  and  ways.  Dear 
child!  By  this  time  she  knew  of  his  safety,  and 
was  looking  out  for  him.  With  heart  drawn  toward 
heart,  how  blissful  the  meeting  would  be !  He  was 
faint  with  happiness  as  he  pictured  it  in  his  mind. 
The  ride  was  not  without  its  dangers.  More  than 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  279 

once  they  were  attacked.  The  North  Platte  was  com- 
paratively deserted:  the  Indians  were  moving  south. 
They  ran  the  gauntlet  of  their  foes.  But  he  could  not 
have  fallen  now.  His  spirit  would  have  risen  with  the 
strength  of  a  score  of  men,  if  tried.  He  could  not  die 
now  until  he  held  Blossom  once  more  in  his  arms. 


280  HIS   INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

HOME    AGAIN. 

THE  day  came  at  last  when  they  must  gain  Fort 
Atchison,  if  no  accident  or  calamity  befell  them. 
Morning  dragged  on  to  noon,  and  noon  stretched  out, 
barren  and  drear,  cloud-cast  and  foreboding,  to  late 
afternoon ;  and  then,  like  the  gates  of  Paradise,  the 
long,  low  line  of  cheveux-de-frise  encircling  the  fort  rose 
before  the  eager,  far-seeing  eyes  of  Captain  Elyot.  He 
broke  away  from  the  company.  The  very  horse  under 
him  must  have  felt  the  sudden  bound  of  his  heart,  as 
with  his  head  lowered,  his  teeth  shut  tight,  and  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  goal,  he  dashed  ahead.  The  dizzy  ground 
flew  out  from  under  his  horse's  feet ;  he  had  no  gaze  for 
right  or  left ;  the  familiar  landscape  wooed  no  glance  ; 
his  eyes  saw  only  that  feebly-waving  flag,  growing,  like 
the  soul  within  him,  every  moment. 

The  sentry  at  the  gate  was  one  of  his  own  men ;  but 
he  had  no  word  for  him. 

Sergeant  McDougal  came  running,  out  of  breath  with 
haste  and  gladness,  as  the  gate  swung  back. 

"  An'  it's  you  ?  Though  we  kenned  ye  were  na  killed. 
Major  McGrath,  wi'  three  coompanies  o'  infantry  an'  a 
sprinkle  o'  cavalry,  cam'  thro'  fra'  Fort  Wallace  better'n 
a  fortnight  back,  an'  brought  the  news." 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  281 

So  Blossom  knew,  and  waited  for  his  coming ! 

He  could  only  wring  the  man's  hand,  and  hasten  on. 

The  sergeant  stared  after  him,  rubbing  his  forehead 
in  perplexity. 

"  Somebody  maun  tell  her,"  he  gasped,  and  started  on 
a  run  for  the  major's  quarters. 

In  the  mean  time  Captain  Elyot  had  gained  his  own 
door  without  meeting  any  one  else.  It  was  the  hour  of 
afternoon  parade.  The  band  began  to  play  softly  as 
he  flung  himself  from  his  horse.  "  Days  of  absence  " 
lingered  in  his  memory  for  many  a  year  after  that.  lie 
did  not  pause  with  his  hand  on  the  latch.  There  was 
no  foreboding  in  his  heart,  nothing  but  impatience  and 
joy,  to  bursting.  He  threw  the  door  open.  Why  should 
he  wait  to  prepare  her  for  his  coming  ?  He  begrudged 
every  retarding  moment.  His  foot  sounded  strange  upon 
the  floor  of  the  little  passage  to  his  wife's  parlor.  It 
was  dark,  and  the  door  refused  to  open  (it  had  a  trick)  : 
he  touched  it  with  his  foot,  sending  it  back  with  a  clang 
and  a  dull  echo. 

And  the  room  was  empty  and  stripped  bare  ! 

The  very  beating  of  his  heart  stopped.  He  staggered 
to  the  wall,  groping  like  one  struck  blind.  Then  he 
rallied.  Was  it  the  drum  outside  suddenly  awakened  ? 
or  did  the  reverberation  of  his  own  heart  seem  to  thrash 
the  air,  and  make  it  quiver  to  sight  and  sound  ?  There 
was  some  mistake  here.  He  had  entered  the  wrong  door. 
But  no ;  a  gust  of  wind  blew  in  after  him,  flapping  a 
bunch  of  dried  grass  upon  the  wall.  Blossom's  own 
hands  had  pinned  it  there.  White  with  the  dust  of 
long  neglect,  it  fluttered  down  to  his  feet.  He  opened 
the  door  of  the  room  where  lie  had  laid  Blossom's  faint- 
ing form  upon  the  bed  the  morning  when  he  rode  away. 
Empty  and  bare ! 


282  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

Then  an  awful  sense  of  calamity  overwhelmed  him. 
It  was  too  terrible  for  dread  :  it  was  a  revelation,  like 
the  sudden  opening  of  an  abyss  beneath  his  very  feet. 

Some  one  stood  in  the  doorway.  It  was  the  major's 
wife,  who,  at  Sergeant  McDougal's  strange  tidings,  had 
run  out  in  the  bitter  wind,  without  so  much  as  a  shawl 
over  her  head. 

"  Captain  Elyot ! "  She  fairly  put  her  arms  about 
his  neck,  and  kissed  him.  "  Welcome  to  life  again !  Oh, 
what  a  fright  you  gave  us !  We  thought  you  were 
dead.  But  what  are  you  doing  here,  man  ?  Come  home 
with  me,  or  the  major  and  every  one  else'll  be  there 
before  us.  Where  is  your  wife  ?  " 

"  My  wife  ?  "  Captain  Elyot  turned  a  face  like  death 
upon  her.  "  Mrs.  Bryce,  where  is  my  wife  ?  " 

"  Then  you  don't  know  ?  Is  it  possible  that  you 
don't  know  ?  Why,  they  left  the  fort  full  three  months 
ago  ;  and  not  a  word  have  we  heard  of  them  since.  But 
I  fancied  they  had  somehow  reached  you.  Don't,  pray 
don't !  Why,  man,  you  look  as  though  you  were  turned 
to  stone.  Rouse  up,  and  come  home  with  me.  My  dear 
boy,  I'm  a  silly  woman,  and  don't  know  what  to  do," 
sobbed  the  major's  wife  ;  "  but  do  come,  come  home  to 
the  major.  He'll  say  something  that'll  make  it  right,  I 
know.  I'm  so  bewildered  at  the  sight  of  you !  "  And 
Mrs.  Bryce  fell  to  sobbing  aloud. 

"  Where  did  they  go  ?  What  does  it  mean  ?  "  And 
the  captain  passed  his  hand  over  his  eyes  as  though 
with  this  movement  he  could  brush  away  the  perplexity 
of  his  mind. 

"  I  don't  know.  And  there  is  little  enough  to  tell, 
though  I  saw  her  more  frequently  than  you  may  be- 
lieve, after  you  left.  We  ladies  were  not  quite  just  to 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  283 

your  wife  at  first :  I  am  willing  to  acknowledge  it  now. 
But  your  marriage  was  a  precedent  we  hardly  wished  to 
see  established  among  us,  Captain  Elyot,  though  you 
might  have  looked  far  before  finding  another  so  gentle 
and  sweet  and  altogether  lovable  as  she.  I  little  thought, 
once,  that  the  day  would  come  when  I  should  say  this 
to  you.  But  the  patience  of  that  dear  child  through 
all  those  anxious  weeks,  even  trying  to  bear  up  when 
every  one  else  believed  you  were  dead  (because  of  some 
promise  you  had  made  her  at  the  last),  the  forgiving 
spirit  toward  those  who  had  scorned  her,  —  and  I  was 
one,  I  say  it  with  shame"  — 

" Mrs.  Bryce,  where  did  they  go? " 

"  I  don't  know.  We  have  never  heard.  Mrs.  Stubbs 
was  silent  and  strange  as  to  their  plans,  —  her  plans,  I 
might  say  ,•  for  it  was  she  who  arranged  every  thing. 
They  were  going  East,  she  said.  This  was  after  Lieu- 
tenant Gibbs  came  in  (and,  oh,  what  a  mercy  it  was ! 
and  Claudia  worn  to  a  shadow),  and  we  all  believed  you 
to  be  dead ;  only  your  wife  held  out  to  the  last.  You 
would  yet  come  back  she  declared.  You  had  promised 
her.  Mrs.  Stubbs  said  she  would  write  as  soon  as  they 
were  permanently  settled ;  but  we  have  heard  nothing. 
Still  it  is  hardly  time,  though  I  can  see  that  the  major 
is  uneasy.  I  never  knew  him  to  be  so  distressed  as 
when  the  news  came  that  you  were  dead  "  — 

"  But  he  should  have  detained  them  here." 

"  He  did  what  he  could.  But  he  might  as  well  have 
tried  to  stop  the  wind  from  sweeping  over  the  plains 
as  to  control  that  woman.  We  said  every  thing  to 
persuade  them  to  remain  until  another  spring,  when  we 
shall  probably  be  ordered  East  ourselves.  The  major 
seemed  to  feel  that  he  was  left  in  charge  of  your  wife ; 


284  HIS   INHEKITANCE. 

and  he  even  threatened  to  use  force  to  detain  them ;  but 
that  was  nonsense,  of  course.  What  did  they  know  of 
the  world,  he  said ;  and,  between  you  and  me,  the  old 
woman  was  not  quite  "  —  the  major's  wife  touched  her 
forehead  mysteriously.  "  But  I  am  keeping  you  here  ; 
and  he  is  at  home  before  now,  and  wondering  where  you 
have  hidden  yourself;  for  there's  not  a  man,  woman, 
or  child  at  the  post,  but  knows  of  your  arrival  by  this 
time." 

"  Leave  me  here  ; "  and  Captain  Elyot  turned  again 
to  the  empty  rooms. 

"  That  I  will  never  do ! "  Mrs.  Bryce  replied  with 
decision.  She  rested  her  broad  shoulders  against  the 
bare  wall  as  she  spoke.  "  I  only  wish  I  had  brought  a 
wrap  of  some  kind.  It  is  bitterly  cold  ;  "  and  she  shiv- 
ered perceptibly. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  humbly,  moving  toward 
the  door.  His  hand  lingered  over  the  latch.  How  dear 
the  place  had  been  to  him ! 

"  I  must  set  out  in  search  of  them  at  once,  —  to- 
morrow. The  major  cannot  refuse  to  give  me  leave  ?  " 
He  spoke  with  anxious  haste.  He  had  shut  out  the 
happy  past  with  the  closing  of  that  door.  To  search 
the  world  over  till  he  found  them  was  his  only  desire. 

"  Set  out  for  the  States,  with  a  storm  beginning  already ! 
No,  no,  Captain  Elyot,  you  must  be  contented  to  stay 
with  us  a  while.  Another  mail  will  very  likely  bring  us 
all  news  of  your  wife.  But  we'll  hear  what  the  major 
has  to  say."  And  she  led  the  way  to  her  own  door. 
"  And  a  mercy  it  is  that  you  got  in  when  you  did,"  as 
the  snowflakes  settled  upon  her  bare  head.  Her  heart 
had  thrown  down  all  its  defences  against  him,  as,  in- 
deed, it  had  surrendered  to  Blossom  in  her  affliction. 


HIS    INHERITANCE.  285 

Then,  too,  Claudia's  marriage  was  arranged  for  the  next 
month.  Lieutenant  Gibbs's  return  from  the  dead,  as  it 
were,  had  hastened  matters.  His  expectations  had  borne 
unlooked-for  fruit.  And  it  was  really  a  very  desirable 
connection  in  every  way ;  so  that  there  was  no  longer 
any  thing  to  regret  on  that  score. 

A  bright  light  shone  from  Mrs.  Bryce's  windows. 
This  was  like  the  coming  home  the  poor  young  man 
had  dreamed  of,  with  the  fire  glowing  on  the  hearth, 
and  Blossom  waiting  to  greet  him. 

"Bless  my  soul,  boy!  and  is  it  really  you?"  said  the 
major,  struggling  with  something  very  like  tears,  which 
rose  and  choked  him  as  he  bestowed  a  bear-hug  upon  the 
young  man.  "Here's  Gibbs  —  where  are  you,  Gibbs?" 
for  the  room  was  full,  the  news  of  Captain  Elyot's  arrival 
having  flown  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  fort  —  "and 
Blake.  —  Step  up,  Blake,  and  speak  to  the  captain.  — 
The  rest  of  the  poor  fellows  "  — 

The  major  turned  suddenly  to  stare  at  the  snow  fall- 
ing thick  outside  the  windows. 

One  after  another  they  crowded  up  to  shake  the 
captain's  hand;  but,  when  they  pressed  him  for  the 
story  of  his  escape,  Mrs.  Bryce  interfered,  and  dismissed 
them  all. 

"  Another  time,  good  friends,  —  to-morrow.  We  must 
give  him  a  chance  to  rest  and  refresh  himself  before  we 
begin  upon  that;"  and  she  fairly  bowed  them  out  of  the 
house.  She  would  not  risk  the  chance  of  their  inquir- 
ing for  his  missing  wife. 

"And  so  you  carried  the  despatches  through,  after 
all  ? "  said  the  major,  when  the  door  had  closed  upon 
the  last  one.  "  You'll  hear  of  that  again,  or  I'm  mis- 
taken. You  may  be  sure  I  didn't  forget  to  mention  it 


286  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

in  my  report.  But  what's  this  they  tell  me  ?  Don't 
know  your  wife's  whereabouts  ?  We  fancied  she  must 
have  found  you,  since  every  paper  we  have  received 
has  been  full  of  your  gallant  and  meritorious  conduct. 
But  the  next  mail  will  bring  you  something.  Don't  look 
so  down  in  the  mouth,  boy.  They're  sure  to  know  of 

your  escape  long  before  this.  What  the do  you 

think  newspapers  feed  on  but  such  narrow  escapes  as 
yours?  I  venture  to  say  that  your  face  has  appeared 
in  every  illustrated  penny-a-line  east  of  the  Mississippi, 
altered  over  from  an  old  woodcut  of  Captain  Kidd. 
Cheer  up,  man ' '  And  the  cheerful  assurance  of  the 
major's  voice  did  lighten  for  a  moment  the  load  upon 
the  young  man's  heart. 

"  But  where  are  they  ?  Did  they  leave  no  clew  by 
which  they  can  be  traced  ?  " 

44  No.  Though,  at  the  worst,  I  suppose  we  might  learn 
something  of  them  at  Independence.  I  did  inquire 
what  had  become  of  them  when  the  wagons  returned. 
But,  if  the  old  woman  had  been  escaping  for  her  life, 
she  could  hardly  have  taken  more  pains  to  cover  up 
her  trail." 

44  Did  she  try  to  do  that  ?  "  Captain  Elyot  asked  with 
a  start. 

"I  can't  tell.  On  my  soul  I  don't  know.  But  it 
looked  like  it.  She  has  never  been  quite  herself,  you 
know,  since  Stubbs  was  killed.  Straight  enough  in 
business,  but  queer,  and  more  close-mouthed  than  ever 
about  her  own  affairs.  We  tried  to  keep  them  here. 
Your  wife  would  have  been  glad  to  stay,  poor  thing ! 
for  she  had  an  odd  fancy  that  you  would  yet  come 
back.  —  Bless  my  soul !  How  the  smoke  from  that  con- 
founded chimney  gets  into  one's  eyes!  —  But  the  old 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  287 

woman  would  go.  There  was  nothing  to  stay  for,  she 
said,  and  the  sooner  they  left,  the  better.  So  she  has- 
tened to  sell  out.  Gibbs,  perhaps  you  know,  has  developed 
a  remarkable  interest  in  household  stuff.  He  bought 
some  of  the  articles,  and  the  sutler  took  the  rest ;  for 
Mrs.  Stubbs  didn't  stand  upon  pennies.  She  used  to  be 
sharp  enough  at  a  trade  ;  but  I  believe  she'd  have  given 
every  thing  away  rather  than  to  wait  a  month  longer." 

"  And  they  almost  new,  as  you  know,"  broke  in  Mrs. 
Bryce.  "  Why,  those  rugs  " 

"  Never  mind,  Polly,"  said  the  major.  He  saw  that 
the  young  man  shrank  from  hearing  his  household  goods 
enumerated.  "  Elyot  won't  care  to  know  all  that.  And 
here  comes  Jinny  at  last.  —  You  must  be  famished, 
Elyot." 

"  I  hope  I  see  ye  weel,  sir,"  said  Jinny,  with  a  meek 
obeisance.  "  Ye're  lookin'  blithe  after  the  lang  illness 
that  we  heard  of." 

" Thanks,  Jinny !  I'm  quite  recovered,  I  believe;" 
the  captain  responded. 

"  Jinny,  here,  knew  as  much  of  your  family  as  any 
one,"  said  the  major,  as  the  girl  proceeded  to  set  out  the 
tea-table. 

"  I'll  no  say  that  I  didna ; "  and  Jinny  began  to  lay 
the  cloth  with  a  critical  eye  to  its  exactness.  "  Mrs. 
Stubbs  was  na  above  a  crack  wi'  an  auld  friend,  beggin' 
your  pardon,  sir ;  an'  as  for  the  young  leddy,  bless  her 
sweet  face  !  she  was  ower  gude  to  me.  Many's  the  letter 
she  wrote  for  me  wi'  her  ain  hand.  An'  as  for  the  rib- 
bons an' "  — 

"  And  where  did  they  go,  Jinny  ?  "  Captain  Elyot 
was  too  eager  for  any  information  she  might  give  to 
bear  with  this  personal  digression. 


288  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

"  That's  what  I  dinna  ken,  sir ;  "  and  Jinny  set  down 
her  cups  and  saucers,  and  rested  her  hands  upon  her 
hips  in  a  thoughtful  attitude.  She  and  Sergeant  Mc- 
Dougal  had  already  discussed  this  question  fruitlessly 
in  the  kitchen.  "Ye  mind  the  day,  ma'am,"  she  went 
on  to  her  mistress,  "  when  I  gied  'em  a  hand  at  packin' 
their  clothes  an'  the  like?  lYe  hae  freens  where  ye 
gang?'  said  I.  'I'm  thinkin',  Jinny,'  said  the  puir 
thing,  wi'  a  sigh,  '  that  I  hae  nae  freens  left.'  An'  it 
would  'a'  touched  the  heart  o'  a  green  stane  to  'a'  seen 
her  wi'  the  red  wiped  out  o'  her  cheeks  by  the  tears 
that  were  ne'er  once  dry  in  her  een." 

Mrs.  Bryce  had  frowned  in  vain  upon  the  girl,  whose 
story  was  entirely  too  much  for  Captain  Etyot.  His 
head  had  dropped  into  his  hands,  through  which  his 
own  tears  trickled. 

"I'll  no  tell  a  lee,  ma'am,"  said  Jinny  stoutly,  in 
reply  to  this  unspoken  reproof. 

She  was  a  stanch  Presbyterian,  and  regarded  her  word 
in  trifles  as  well  as  in  greater  matters.  "  Ye  ken  yer 
ain  sel'  that  the  puir  lass  was  like  a  wraith,  wi'  nae  mail- 
red  on  her  face  than  the  snow  that's  droppin'  out-o '-doors 
this  blessed  night.  But  for  a'  that,"  she  went  on,  having 
thus  relieved  her  conscience,  "  it  may  be  that  change 
o'  scene  an'  gude  news,  —  if  so  be  that  tidings  o'  the 
cap'in's  escape  ever  reach  her,  which  is  na  to  be  counted 
on,  sin'  ye  say  yerself  that  the  newspapers  tell  naething 
but  lees,  —  it  may  be  that  she'll  yet  be  spared."  With 
which  comforting  possibility  the  girl  left  the  room  at  a 
sign  from  her  mistress. 

"  Is  it  so  ?  "  said  Captain  Elyot.  "  Is  her  health  so 
broken  ?  " 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  the  major  shortly.     "  Jinny  enjoys 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  289 

startling  effects.  The  poor  little  thing  had  cried  herself 
sick.  That  was  all." 

"  To  tell  the  truth,"  amended  his  wife,  "  she  did  have 
a  serious  illness,  from  which  she  was  but  just  recovering 
when  her  mother  took  her  away.  I  am  sure  she  was 
unwilling  to  go ;  but  she  was  not  one  to  set  up  her  own 
will.  She  was  thin  and  pale,  as  Jinny  says ;  but  that 
was  not  to  be  wondered  at,  since  she  was  hardly  able  to 
sit  up  all  day  when  they  set  out  for  the  States." 

"  And  no  one  interfered !  It  may  have  killed  her  !  " 
exclaimed  the  young  man,  almost  beside  himself  with 
apprehension  over  this  new  occasion  for  alarm. 

"We  used  every  argument  but  force,"  the  major 
replied.  "  But  no  one  of  us  had  any  authority  to  come 
between  the  two.  Besides,  Mrs.  Stubbs  was  thoroughly 
competent  to  manage  her  own  affairs ;  and  there  was, 
as  she  said,  no  reason  why  they  should  remain  here  if 
they  chose  to  go  ;  and  the  journey  made  by  easy  stages, 
as  she  argued,  would  bring  the  girl's  strength  back,  as 
I  have  no  doubt  it  did.  Cheer  up,  man!  Blossom's 
cheeks  are  rosy  enough  by  this  time,  I  venture  to  say ; 
and  the  old  woman  promised  that  we  should  have  word 
of  them  before  three  months  (and  it  is  scarcely  that), 
or  even  sooner,  if  they  settled  anywhere." 

"  Don't  be  down-hearted ;  "  and  Mrs.  Bryce  laid  her 
hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  bent  figure.  "  It  is  only 
a  matter  of  patience.  Try  and  content  yourself  here 
with  us,  at  least  until  the  next  mail  comes  through." 

"And  then,  if  you  hear  nothing,"  broke  in  the  major, 
"  we'll  find  some  way  of  sending  you  after  her ;  for  I  see 
you'll  be  useless  here.  —  Polly,  should  I  take  it  so  to 
heart  if  you  were  spirited  away  ?  " 

"  Not  you !  "  replied  Mrs.  Bryce,  with  a  laugh  and  a 


290  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

toss  of  her  cap-ribbons.  "  But  come,  come :  here  is  the 
tea  growing  cold.  We  will  not  wait  for  Claudia.  She 
must  be  going  to  spend  the  evening  out."  She  did  not 
say  that  she  had  despatched  a  note  to  that  young  woman, 
who  was  spending  an  hour  with  a  friend,  announcing 
the  startling  arrival,  —  which  was  no  news  by  the  time 
it  reached  her,  —  and  suggesting  that  it  might  be  as 
well  for  her  not  to  return  until  later  in  the  evening, 
when  the  influx  of  visitors  would  be  over. 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  201 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

"GOING  TO  LEAVE  US?" 

/CLAUDIA  did  not  appear  until  the  next  morning, 
V_y  when  she  repeated  the  assurance  her  father  and 
mother  had  already  pressed  upon  their  guest,  that,  long 
before  this  tune,  his  wife  must  have  learned  of  his  safety, 
and,  knowing  that  he  would  rejoin  his  command  at 
once,  the  next  mail  would,  without  doubt,  bring  some 
tidings  of  her. 

"I  am  sorry,  Captain  Elyot,  to  hear  of  your  disap- 
pointment," she  said.  And  so  she  was,  with  that  indis- 
criminate sorrow  which  we  bestow,  as  good  Christians, 
upon  all  men  alike.  But  secretly,  in  her  heart  of  hearts, 
she  believed  that  justice  was  at  last  being  meted  out  to 
him,  and  that  he  was  only  paying  the  penalty  one  must 
pay,  in  this  world  or  the  next,  for  one's  sins. 

"  It  goes  to  my  heart,"  Mrs.  Bryce  had  said,  making 
an  early  visit  to  Claudia's  bedroom,  in  wrapper  and 
night-cap.  She  and  the  major  had  sat  late  with  their 
guest  the  night  before,  speculating  upon  Mrs.  Stubbs's 
intentions  and  motives ;  and  there  had  been  no  oppor- 
tunity to  confer  with  Claudia,  who  had  come  in,  and 
gone  directly  to  her  own  room  without  seeing  their  vis- 
itor. "  Poor  fellow !  I  heard  him  walking  the  floor 


292  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

half  the  night.  I  do  believe  he  never  went  to  bed  at 
all." 

"  Indeed,"  Claudia  replied  coldly.  She  was  coiling 
her  hair,  standing  before  the  glass,  and  twisting  it  about 
her  head  like  a  crown.  Her  fingers  neither  trembled, 
nor  relaxed  in  their  efforts.  So  he  was  unhappy.  Had 
she  not  had  her  full  share  of  wretchedness  ?  And  no 
one  had  pitied  her.  She  had  not  walked  the  floor,  keep- 
ing others  awake  as  well  as  herself;  but  her  pain  had 
been  none  the  less  because  she  had  striven  to  hide  it  in 
her  own  bosom. 

"  You  will  meet  him  in  a  friendly  way,  as  you  used  to 
long  ago ;  won't  you,  Claudia  ?  "  Mrs.  Bryce  put  the 
question  fearfully.  The  one  object  of  her  early  call 
had  been  to  ask  this ;  for  Claudia  had  never  come  round 
to  be  gracious  to  Captain  Elyot's  wife.  Even  in  Blos- 
som's affliction  she  had  withheld  her  sympathy.  "  He 
is  very  unhappy,"  the  major's  wife  continued,  with  a 
mournful  shake  of  the  head,  far  from  effective  in  her 
present  costume.  And  so  was  I  unhappy,  thought 
Claudia  bitterly ;  but  no  one  was  tender  of  me.  "  Why 
should  I  ?  "  she  replied  perversely.  "  We  are  not  at  all 
intimate  as  we  were  once.  How  can  I  be  the  same? 
But  I  shall  not  forget  that  he  is  a  guest  in  the  house,  and 
I  suppose  I  shall  tell  him  that  I  am  sorry,  and  all  that." 
And  then  she  went  on  with  her  toilet,  the  bitter  feel- 
ings, which  had  almost  died  away,  aroused  to  aggressive- 
ness by  her  mother's  appeal. 

"  Well,  that  is  all  I  ask  you,  to  show  something  like 
sympathy  for  him.  He  is  in  great  trouble ;  and,  though 
you  may  not  have  fancied  her,  she  was  his  wife,  you 
know." 

A  faint  red  spot  burned  upon  Claudia's  cheek.  The 
tip  of  her  finger  might  have  covered  it. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  203 

"  I  suppose  other  people  have  had  trouble  as  well  as 
he,  —  and  you  will  never  be  ready  for  breakfast  if  you 
stand  there  in  your  cap." 

"  Bless  me,  I  had  forgotten  all  about  it ! "  And  Mrs. 
Bryce  hurried  away,  not  at  all  sure  that  she  had  suc- 
ceeded in  her  pacific  attempt. 

She  need  have  had  no  fears  as  regarded  Captain 
Elyot.  He  was  entirely  too  miserable  to  resent  any 
fancied  ill-treatment  or  neglect  of  months  before ;  or,  if 
he  had  remembered  either,  Mrs.  Bryce's  frank  admission 
and  warm  tribute  to  Blossom's  worth  would  have  set 
the  matter  right  at  once. 

He  appeared  to  Claudia  both  worn  and  ill-looking, 
when  she  entered  the  parlor  a  few  moments  before 
breakfast,  seeing  him  for  the  first  time,  and  alone.  He 
rose,  and  advanced  a  step  to  meet  her.  It  stung  her 
afresh  to  feel  that  her  past  neglect  and  coldness  had 
been  nothing  to  him.  She  herself  had  been  nothing  to 
him  at  all ;  not  the  shadow  of  a  passing  interest  touched 
him  in  meeting  her  again.  There  was  not  even  the 
sting  of  a  remembered  slight,  she  could  see,  as  he  an- 
swered her  greeting;  for  it  was  then  she  expressed 
her  conventional  sympathy,  as  related  at  the  beginning 
of  the  chapter. 

"  You  are  very  good,"  he  replied  simply,  resuming  his 
seat,  and  falling  again  into  the  revery  interrupted  by 
her  entrance.  The  unconscious  rudeness  provoked  her 
to  speech. 

"  Thanks,"  she  replied  with  a  smile,  though  he  looked 
up  with  a  quick  stare,  as  if  he  had  not  understood  her. 
"  But,  really,  one  might  take  you  for  the  Knight  of  the 
Rueful  Countenance,"  she  went  on  with  angry  flippan- 
cy, advancing,  and  thrusting  one  foot  out  to  the  fire. 


294  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

She  had  touched  the  quick  this  time.  His  face  blazed 
scarlet.  "  Why  should  you  give  way  to  despair  ?  "  she 
added  coolly,  eying  the  fire,  but  aware  of  his  start  when 
her  words  touched  him.  "  Nobody  could  be  really  lost, 
you  know,  unless  they  desired  to  be.  It  is  always  possible 
to  track  people.  I  daresay,  if  you  had  asked  at  Inde- 
pendence, you  might  have  learned  all  about  them.  The 
world  is  not  so  large  as  people  make  it  out  to  be,  I 
fancy." 

"  Yes,  if  I  had  known.  That  is  the  torment  of  it ; 
to  think  I  may  have  been  near  them !  I  may  have  even 
passed  her  in  the  street !  "  And,  regardless  of  Miss 
Bryce's  presence,  he  began  to  pace  the  room. 

"  That  could  hardly  have  been  possible,"  Miss  Bryce 
replied  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone.  "  They  must  have  left 
the  town  some  weeks  before  you  reached  it." 

It  was  a  relief  to  Claudia  when  her  mother  and  the 
breakfast  appeared  simultaneously.  She  had  no  desire 
to  pursue  this  subject  indefinitely.  It  was  worse  than 
uninteresting ;  and  why  should  she  affect  an  interest  she 
was  far  from  possessing  ?  There  was  no  danger  of  an 
immediate  return  to  the  tete-d-tete,  since,  before  break- 
fast was  well  over,  visitors  began  to  arrive.  Lieutenant 
Gibbs  was  among  the  first  of  these ;  and,  as  the  room 
filled,  he  managed  to  draw  Claudia  away  into  a  corner. 
But  even  here  she  was  not  safe  from  an  appeal  to  her 
sympathies  in  behalf  of  the  new  arrival.  "He  seems 
awfully  cut  up,  and  no  wonder,"  said  the  lieutenant. 
"  What  do  you  think  I  should  have  done,  if  I  had  come 
home  to  find  you  gone  ?  " 

*'  Made  love  to  Augusta  Wiley  perhaps,"  Claudia 
replied  carelessly.  She  was  more  than  half  in  earnest, 
having  very  little  faith  in  the  vows  of  men. 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  295 

"  I  say,  Claudia,  I  know  you  don't  mean  it ;  but  your 
jokes  hit  a  fellow  hard  sometimes.  Do  you  really  believe 
I  could  get  over  it  like  that  ?  "  Something  below  the 
surface  was  stirred  in  the  man.  His  moistened  eyes 
searched  her  face. 

"  Of  course  I  don't,  silly.  You'd  set  out  in  search 
of  me,  I  hope." 

"  I'd  hunt  the  world  over,  but  I'd  find  you." 

"  Yes  ?  "  Claudia  responded  absently,  making  a  move- 
ment toward  the  company  of  which  Captain  Elyot  was 
the  centre.  This  was  almost  worse  than  listening  to 
him. 

"  Don't  go !  "  He  caught  her  dress  slyly  as  she  was 
edging  away.  "  I  never  have  a  word  with  you  alone." 

"  It  is  so  rude  to  be  whispering  off  in  a  corner ! " 

"  Only  a  moment.  See  here,  Claudia.  If  I  were  you, 
I  wouldn't  tell  Elyot  that  we  are  tc  take  his  house." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  And  Miss  Bryce  opened  her  gray  eyes. 
"  He  will  have  to  know  it." 

"  Well,  not  just  now,  not  for  a  day  or  two :  it  might 
seem  rough  on  him,  you  know." 

"  As  you  please,"  Claudia  replied  stiffly.  "  I  presume 
I  shall  have  no  occasion  to  mention  it.  There  will  be 
nothing  talked  of  at  present  but  the  Stubbses  and  their 
probable  location.  I  wish  "  —  she  began  hotly. 

"  What  is  it  you  wish  ?  "  the  lieutenant  asked,  with 
some  anxiety. 

"That  he  could  gratify  his  desire,  and  set  out  in 
search  of  them,"  she  added,  controlling  herself. 

"  So  do  I ;  and  you  are  a  dear  girl  to  feel  such  an  inter- 
est in  his  affairs,  though  once  I  shouldn't  have  said  that. 
Do  you  remember  ?  —  but  there,  don't  pull  your  hand 
away.  I  promised  never  to  bring  it  up  again,  I  know. 


296  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

But  it  needn't  vex  you,  now  that  every  thing  has  come 
round  all  right,  —  except  with  Elyot,  it's  hard  on  him, 
Claudia,  to  come  home  and  find  his  house  empty,  and 
his  wife  vanished,  the  Lord  knows  where  ; "  and  the 
lieutenant  pulled  his  long  mustache,  with  a  thoughtful 
shake  of  the  head.  "  It's  like  a  piece  of  poetry  I  remem- 
ber in  the  reading-book  when  I  was  a  little  chap; 
though,  for  the  life  of  me,  I  can't  think  what  it  was 
all  about." 

"  Don't  try."  And  there  was  the  slightest  perceptible 
curl  of  Miss  Bryce's  upper  lip.  "  But  I  see  it  is  clearing 
off.  We  shall  have  a  fine  day,  after  all.  I  must  try  to  get 
down  to  the  house  this  afternoon.  It  is  time  something 
was  done  toward  putting  it  in  order."  Claudia  plunged 
from  sentiment  into  business,  thankful  of  any  diversion 
from  this  topic,  which  beset  her  on  every  side. 

"  And  I'll  go  with  you." 

"  It  isn't  at  all  necessary.  Men  never  can  understand 
such  things.  Mamma  had  much  better  take  it  in  hand." 
Then,  observing  her  lover's  mortified  air,  she  added  in 
a  more  gentle  tone,  "We  shall  call  upon  you  soon 
enough ;  but  at  first  I  really  think  mamma  and  I  had 
better  go  alone,  and  see  what  is  to  be  done."  And  with 
this  very  small  sop  of  graciousness,  and  a  sly  squeeze 
of  Claudia's  hand  behind  her  back,  the  lieutenant  went 
off,  happy  and  full  of  importance. 

Miss  Bryce's  words,  which  had  appeared  so  carelessly 
uttered,  came  to  Captain  Elyot's  mind  again  when  he 
was  alone,  when  the  excitement  roused  by  telling  the 
story  of  his  escape  and  wanderings  had  passed  away. 
The  ebb  of  this  tide  carried  much  with  it ;  but  Claudia's 
words  remained.  They  had  sunk  deeper  than  he  knew. 
"  No  one  ever  is  lost,"  she  had  said,  "  unless  they  desire 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  297 

to  be"  He  was  too  unsuspicious  to  fancy  that  she  meant 
to  give  him  pain :  he  tried  to  forget  the  thoughtless  sen- 
tence. But  light  words  hold  fast  as  anchors  sometimes  ; 
and  he  could  not  get  rid  of  these,  nor  of  the  unreasonable 
fears  they  aroused.  He  knew  that  Blossom  would  not 
change  toward  him.  Nor  would  she,  of  her  own  will, 
stay  away  from  his  side  for  an  hour.  But  what  if  her 
mother  held  her  back  ?  Certain  unformed  doubts  and 
suspicions,  of  which  he  had  not  been  conscious  before, 
took  bodily  shape  now.  What  might  not  this  woman 
do? 

He  remembered  that  he  had  married  the  girl  almost 
in  the  face  of  Mrs.  Stubbs's  opposition.  He  had  forced 
a  confession  of  his  love  upon  Blossom  at  a  moment 
when  her  mother  had  dismissed  him  from  the  house. 
Later,  she  seemed  to  consent  to  the  marriage,  to  exult 
over  it,  indeed,  with  an  inconsistency  he  had  been  too 
happy  at  the  time  to  try  to  fathom.  Looking  back  now, 
he  could  see  it  all,  as  well  as  that  a  few  weeks  more 
had  brought  a  change.  The  woman  had  become  silent, 
and  at  times  almost  sullen.  Selfish  in  his  perfect  hap- 
piness, he  had  paid  no  heed  to  her  variable  moods.  If 
he  noticed  them  at  all,  it  was  but  to  ascribe  their  changes 
to  an  unhappy  temper,  the  best  panacea  for  which  was 
to  ignore  it  altogether.  Was  the  major  right  in  his 
suspicion  that  she  was  not  quite  herself  in  these  days? 
This  was  the  simplest  solution  of  the  problem.  But,  if 
so,  he  trembled  to  think  of  Blossom  in  her  hands.  Still 
his  reason  told  him  that  there  was  really  nothing  to  fear. 
However  variable  Mrs.  Stubbs's  moods  might  be,  she 
never  wavered  in  her  devotion  to  the  child.  Nor  would 
she  attempt  to  keep  the  girl  from  him  when  once  she 
had  learned  of  his  escape.  She  would  know  too  well 


298  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

that  Blossom's  happiness  was  to  be  found  only  with 
him.  Besides,  what  reason  could  she  have  for  desiring 
to  separate  them  ?  He  felt  there  could  be  none.  And 
this  reflection  cheered  him  in  a  measure.  He  had 
brought  in  some  files  of  old  newspapers.  They  were 
going  the  rounds  of  the  camp.  In  each  one  was  an 
item  concerning  the  massacre  of  his  party,  while  more 
than  once  the  story  of  his  escape  was  told,  with  dif- 
ferent degrees  of  un truthfulness,  sometimes  even  with 
a  change  of  name,  but  making  a  hero  of  him  in  every 
recital.  Some  of  these  garbled  stories  must  have  caught 
the  eye  of  his  wife.  She  would  be  upon  the  watch  for 
news  from  the  Indian  country,  even  though  convinced 
at  last  that  her  husband  was  dead.  But,  though  he 
soothed  his  anxiety  with  these  reasonable  suppositions, 
an  image  of  Blossom  wasted  by  suffering,  and  worn  by 
illness,  would  rise  in  his  mind,  —  the  pale  patient  mourn- 
er described  by  Mrs.  Bryce's  Jinny.  For  Jinny  had 
taken  another  opportunity,  when  her  word  could  not 
be  called  in  question,  to  assure  him  that  Blossom  had 
the  appearance  of  one  not  "  ower  lang  for  this  warl." 

What  if  she  were  to  die  before  the  good  news  reached 
her! 

Although  the  storm  had  cleared  away,  he  was  locked 
in  here  for  the  present.  There  was  no  escape ;  and  the 
tedious  routine  of  garrison  life,  with  its  hours  of  idle- 
ness, became  almost  unbearable.  He  shrank  from  the 
society  of  his  friends,  to  brood  over  his  trouble  alone. 
The  military  force  was  somewhat  less  than  it  had  been 
the  previous  winter,  and  there  were  fewer  ladies  at  the 
post ;  but  the  dull  season  which  the  young  officers  de- 
plored was  a  matter  of  indifference  to  him.  It  was,  per- 
haps, because  their  circle  had  become  so  narrow,  that 


HIS  INHEEITANCE.  299 

Captain  Elyot's  trouble  seemed  to  overshadow  them  all. 
He  was  the  cloud,  no  bigger  than  a  hand,  which  may  yet 
exclude  the  sun.  Certainly  his  presence  cast  a  gloom 
over  the  little  company.  He  grew  silent  and  morose  as 
days  limped  into  weeks,  bringing  no  tidings  of  his  wife, 
until,  after  a  time,  his  friends  wearied  of  offering  sym- 
pathy so  coldly  received.  And,  indeed,  hearty,  outspoken 
sympathy  is  not  inexhaustible,  and  a  wise  man  will  cover 
up  his  wound  as  soon  as  may  be.  It  is  better  so.  It  is 
one  of  the  curative  processes  of  nature  perhaps ;  but  this 
poor  young  fellow,  who  did  not  realize  that  his  own  man- 
ner had  altered,  was  hurt  and  almost  angry.  His  wound 
was  as  fresh,  and  his  disappointment  as  keen,  as  the  day 
he  had  stepped  into  his  house  to  find  it  empty  and  bare  ; 
but,  to  those  around  him,  his  trouble  seemed  to  have 
become  already  a  thing  of  the  past.  He  fancied  they  were 
tired  of  his  sad  face  and  silent  ways,  as  no  doubt  they 
were.  "  We  were  dull  enough  before  poor  Elyot  came 
back,"  some  one  said.  He  shut  himself  up  from  them 
all.  What  would  have  become  of  him  in  these  days, 
but  for  the  major  and  Mrs.  Bryce,  I  cannot  tell.  The 
latter  had  nothing  to  do,  since  Claudia  was  so  nearly  off 
her  mind,  but  to  lament  over  and  make  much  of  this 
young  man,  whom  she  had  quite  taken  into  favor  again. 
So  entirely  had  she  forgotten  the  past,  that  if,  one  of 
these  frosty  mornings,  Blossom  had  stood  at  the  door, 
she  would  have  given  the  girl  a  welcome  to  which  that 
of  the  prodigal  son  was  but  cold  in  comparison.  She 
would  even  have  wept  tears  of  joy  over  Mrs.  Stubbs 
herself,  had  that  grim  female  chosen  to  appear.  The 
captain  still  made  one  of  the  family;  for  the  major's 
wife  would  not  hear  to  his  going  away,  and,  if  the 
truth  were  told,  the  officers'  mess  hardly  desired  his 


300  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

company  now.  So  the  Bryces  had  him  all  to  themselves, 
—  quite  too  much  to  themselves,  Claudia  thought  some- 
times, even  though  her  attention  was  given  to  more  per- 
sonal affairs,  and  he  intruded  himself  but  seldom  upon 
her  notice.  She  did  not  enjoy  his  presence  in  the  house. 
It  could  hardly  be  said  that  there  remained  any  of  her 
former  feeling  for  him.  His  cold  indifference,  his  heart- 
less indifference  as  she  had  called  it,  had  ground  that 
out  of  her,  leaving  a  kind  of  sullen  anger  in  its  place. 
It  was  not  that  she  still  wept  secretly  over  his  perfidy 
(as  she  thought) ;  but  his  presence  reminded  her  of  a 
time  when  she  had.  Wounded  pride,  after  love,  is  like 
the  lees  of  wine :  it  remains  when  the  draught  is  drank 
up.  And  to  see  this  man  sit  day  after  day,  gazing 
into  the  fire  or  out  of  the  windows,  with  eyes  them- 
selves like  empty  windows,  was  a  sight  hateful  to  her. 
He  sat  in  her  gates ;  and,  so  long  as  he  sat  there,  life  was 
a  burden  to  the  girl.  She  rejoiced  in  the  thought  that 
the  time  was  drawing  near  when  she  should  leave  her 
father's  house,  —  not  with  the  joy  with  which  a  bride  is 
supposed  to  go  forth  to  meet  the  bridegroom,  but  with 
the  feeling  of  a  prisoner  looking  toward  deliverance. 
She  should  be  rid  of  this  reminder  of  the  past,  which 
still  held  her  like  a  tightened  cord,  cutting  her  to  the 
quick. 

"I  think  he  might  rouse  himself,"  she  said  to  her 
mother.  They  were  trying  on  the  gown  in  which 
Claudia  was  to  be  married  two  days  later ;  and  she  spoke 
with  a  pin  between  her  teeth  as  she  re-adjusted  a  plait. 
"  He  may  be  as  wretched  as  he  chooses  to  be,  I  don't 
deny  him  the  right ;  but  there's  no  reason  why  he  should 
make  everybody  about  him  unhappy*  I  declare,"  she 
added,  with  sudden  anger,  "  one  might  as  well  be  mar- 
ried with  a  corpse  in  the  house ! " 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  301 

"  Claudia  Bryce  ! "  exclaimed  the  horrified  mother. 
"  How  can  you  talk  so  ?  The  poor  "  — 

"  Don't  pity  him,"  broke  in  Claudia.  "  I  really  can- 
not bear  it.  And  what  would  you  have  me  do  ?  I  am 
civil  enough,  or  as  civil  as  need  be  to  a  mau  who 
regards  every  one  about  him  as  so  many  stocks  and 
stones.  I  even  told  him  I  was  sorry  for  his  disappoint- 
ment, and  hoped  he  would  be  able  to  set  out  before 
long  in  search  of  his  wife  ;  which  I  do  indeed.  What 
more  can  I  say  ?  Or  why  should  we  go  moping  about 
over  the  loss  of  this  girl,  whom  we  never  visited  when 
she  was  here  ?  The  gloom  of  the  house  is  something 
awful ;  and  I  am  heartily  sick  of  sopping  my  bread  in 
the  waters  of  affliction." 

"  You  don't  mean  what  you  say,  or  you  never  would 
talk  in  such  a  heartless  way,"  Mrs.  Bryce  replied. 
"  How  can  he  be  cheerful,  poor  young  man !  And,  if 
you  have  any  thing  against  the  girl,  you  ought  to  forget 
it,  now  that  we  don't  know  whether  she  is  living  or 
dead." 

"What  should  I  have  against  her?"  said  Claudia, 
with  a  stare.  "  We  never  exchanged  a  dozen  words. 
But  it's  my  belief  that  they  left  because  they  didn't 
care  to  stay  and  learn  the  truth.  However,  it's  nothing 
to  us.  But  it's  not  particularly  cheerful  for  me."  Her 
head  was  turned  over  her  shoulder;  but,  though  she 
spoke  carelessly,  there  was  a  break  in  her  voice  which 
touched  the  mother's  heart.  She  determined  to  speak 
to  Captain  Elyot,  to  urge  him  to  bear  up  under  his 
trouble,  at  least  until  after  Claudia  had  gone.  It  was 
hard  that  her  wedding  should  be  clouded,  and  by  his 
sorrow,  of  all  others  in  the  world. 

But,  before  an  opportunity  occurred,  Claudia  opened 
the  subject  herself. 


302  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  when  they  sat 
before  the  fire,  Claudia  and  her  mother,  in  the  quiet 
half-hour  before  tea.  Miss  Bryce  had  been  hemming 
her  wedding-veil ;  and  the  soft  cloud  of  tulle  overflowed 
her  lap  as  Captain  Elyot  turned  away  from  the  window, 
where  he  had  made  a  pretence  of  reading  Jomini's 
"Waterloo,"  and  came  to  the  fire. 

"  Captain  Elyot,"  said  Claudia,  in  a  quiet,  even  voice, 
breaking  the  stillness  of  the  room,  "  I  am  going  to  be 
married  to-morrow." 

"I  wish  you  much  joy,  Miss  Claudia."  But  there 
was  no  joy  in  the  voice  uttering  the  words. 

"  You'll  come  in  with  the  others  ?  I  believe  we  have 
asked  everybody." 

There  came  back  to  her,  with  a  flash  of  remembrance, 
that  other  time  in  this  same  room,  when  he  had  come 
to  ask  them  to  his  wedding,  and  she  had  scorned  his 
invitation.  She  had  not  even  excused  herself,  or  offered 
conventional  good  wishes.  The  firelight  glowed  in  her 
face  as  she  waited  for  his  reply.  Would  he,  too,  scorn 
her  asking?  She  little  knew  how  lightly  the  whole 
matter  had  rested  on  his  mind.  It  had  been  every 
thing  to  her,  and  nothing  to  him. 

"  I  should  be  a  skeleton  at  the  feast,"  he  said.  Then 
he  rose  abruptly,  forgetting  the  presence  of  these  two, 
and  bowed  his  head  upon  his  hands  as  he  leaned  upon 
the  mantel. 

"But  you  ought  not  to  be,"  Claudia  said  hastily, 
crumpling  the  lace  in  her  arms.  "  There  is  no  reason 
why  you  should  make  yourself  miserable  "  —  and  every 
one  else,  she  desired  to  add,  but  did  not. 

"  Claudia,"  her  mother  whispered  warningly. 

"  Let  me  speak,"  said  Claudia  aloud.     "  Every  one  is 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  303 

afraid  to  say  it ;  but  I  dare  tell  him  the  truth.  Why 
should  he  make  himself  wretched,  and  every  one  about 
him  uncomfortable,  over  he  knows  not  what  ?  If  he 
had  any  real  grief"  — 

Captain  Elyot  had  raised  his  head.  His.  cheek  was 
scarlet,  as  though  she  had  struck  it  with  her  hand. 
Then  it  turned  deathly  white. 

"  If  I  had  any  real  grief,  as  you  call  it,  I  hope  I 
should  bear  it  like  a  man,"  he  said  steadily.  "It  is 
the  suspense,"  and  his  voice  shook  for  a  moment, 
"which  has  made  me  so  forgetful  of  what  is  due  to 
others.  I  did  not  mean  to  force  my  trouble  upon  you. 
You  should  not  have  taken  me  in.  Now  I  will  go 
away."  And  he  moved  toward  the  door  as  though  he 
would  go  at  once. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Go  away !  You  poor  boy, 
where  would  you  go?  And  to-night!  You  shall  do 
nothing  of  the  kind.  —  Claudia,  how  could  you? — But 
indeed  she  did  not  mean  to  reproach  you.  We  only 
thought  it  might  be  well  if  you  would  rouse  yourself. 
—  That  was  it,  wasn't  it,  Claudia  ?  —  We  were  speaking 
of  it  to-day."  Mrs.  Bryce  had  run  around  from  her  place 
in  the  corner  to  catch  the  young  man's  hand  in  both  of 
her  fat  white  ones.  But,  when  she  looked  to  Claudia 
for  some  response  to  her  appeal,  she  found  the  girl  had 
left  the  room.  Nothing  remained  but  the  veil,  which 
had  dropped  out  of  her  hands,  and  trailed  after  her 
along  the  floor. 

"Yes,  I  will  go,"  repeated  Captain  Elyot  more 
calmly. 

"Indeed,  you  shall  not  think  of  it."  But  Mrs. 
Bryce's  voice  was  weak,  her  manner  absent.  She  was 
vexed  with  Claudia,  and  her  heart  was  divided.  Had 


304  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

she  been  wise  in  bringing  this  young  man  here,  caus- 
ing her  own  family  to  be  ill  at  ease  in  order  to  comfort 
him  ?  And  had  she  lessened  his  sorrow,  after  all  ?  In 
his  present  state  of  mind  one  place  was  much  like 
another.  Was  it  not  her  duty  to  let  him  go  if  he 
would  ? 

He  felt  her  hesitation. 

"  You  see  I  am  right,"  he  said.  "  Don't  let  me  make 
another  mistake.  I  ought  to  have  gone  before.  But  I 
shall  never  forget  that  you  took  me  in  —  when  I  was 
homeless,"  he  added  under  his  breath. 

"But  —  it  seems  so  ungracious." 

"  It  is  I  who  have  been  ungracious." 

"Perhaps  —  until  after  the  wedding,"  Mrs.  Bryce 
went  on,  following  out  her  own  thoughts.  She  was 
ashamed  to  consent  to  this  inhospitable  proceeding ;  and 
yet  she  realized  all  at  once  that  his  absence  would  be 
an  immeasurable  relief.  "  But  where  would  you  go  ?  " 

"  I  could  easily  find  a  place.  Lawton  would  take  me 
in  until  I  could  do  better." 

"  And  you  would  promise  to  come  back  ?  " 

"  What's  this  ?  "  The  major  opened  the  door  upon 
an  astonishing  tableau.  "  Ah,  Polly,  Polly ! "  he  said 
with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"  The  captain  has  made  up  his  mind  to  leave  us,  at 
least  for  a  few  days,  until  the  wedding  is  over.  He 
feels  hardly  equal  to  it ;  and  I  don't  know  that  we  can 
urge  him  to  stay."  She  did  not  intend  to  tell  a  lie :  her 
ideas  had  only  all  at  once  arranged  themselves  anew. 

"  Going  to  leave  us ! " 

How  plain  the  whole  matter  became  to  her  mind  at 
once  ! 

"  You  can  easily  see,  Major  Bryce,  that  to  be  in  the 
midst  of  all  these  preparations  "  — 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  305 

There  was  danger  of  her  comfortable  plans  being  set 
aside,  after  all.  And  what  if  the  major  should  learn  of 
Claudia's  outbreak?  But  Captain  Elyot  allowed  her 
statement  of  the  case  to  pass.  It  was  true  enough ;  and 
the  major  did  not  persist. 

"Well,  well,  as  you  please,"  he  said,  rubbing  his 
hands  thoughtfully.  "  You're  welcome  to  stay,  or  to 
come  back  when  the  bustle  is  over.  We'll  have  some- 
thing better  than  a  welcome  for  you  by  that  time. 
There'll  be  a  mail  in  by  the  last  of  the  week ;  and  then, 
Elyot,  if  you  hear  nothing  you  shall  go.  —  We'll  give 
him  marching-orders;  won't  we,  Polly?  —  But  sit  down, 
man,  and  take  a  cup  of  tea :  time  enough  to  look  up 
quarters  after  that  —  if  you  will  go." 

"Do,"  urged  Mrs.  Bryce,  though  she  hoped  in  her 
heart  he  would  refuse.  Claudia's  entrance  after  the 
tea-tray  might  set  them  by  the  ears  again. 

"  Thanks,  but  I  will  not  wait ;  and,  if  I  do  not  appear 
to-morrow,  will  you  believe  that  Miss  Bryce  has  my 
hearty  congratulations  ?  I  fear,  as  you  say,  that  I  am 
not  equal  to  offering  them  in  person." 

Mrs.  Bryce  hastened  to  reply,  and  cover  his  departure 
with  a  cloak  of  words,  lest  some  other  reference  to 
Claudia  should  bring  out  the  immediate  cause  of  this 
hasty  move.  What  would  her  husband  say  if  he  knew 
that  Claudia  had  fairly  driven  their  guest  from  the 
house  ?  Her  own  conscience  was  not  without  its  qualms 
as  she  followed  him  to  the  door. 

"  You  will  not  mind  Claudia's  foolish  speech  ?  "  she 
said  anxiously.  "Her  nerves  are  not  as  strong  as 
usual ;  and,  indeed,  there  is  a  good  deal  to  try  one  at 
such  a  time,  and  after  all  the  anxiety  she  has  been 
through." 


306  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

u  On  the  contrary,  I  am  grateful  for  her  frankness. 
I  begin  to  see  that  I  have  given  occasion  for  it." 

"  No,  no :  I  will  not  allow  that.  But  you  will  come 
back?" 

"  Like  black  care  ?  You  are  too  kind.  I'm  afraid  I 
shall.  Good-night."  And  he  was  gone. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  307 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

"WHY,  MAN,   THE  MAIL'S  IN!" 

AND  so  it  came  about  that  Claudia's  wedding  was 
a  shade  less  lugubrious  than  it  had  seemed  likely 
to  be  to  that  much  betroubled  young  woman ;  though  it 
was  by  no  means  a  joyous  affair,  the  only  person 
thoroughly  happy  and  satisfied  in  the  assembly  —  at 
least  of  those  most  nearly  concerned  —  being  the  bride- 
groom, whom  some  subtle  and  to  him  incomprehensible 
influence  withheld  from  all  expression  of  joy.  Although 
Captain  Elyot  had  taken  himself  away,  his  shadow, 
perhaps,  still  lingered. 

For  he  did  not  appear  at  the  wedding.  He  sat  alone, 
through  all  the  long  afternoon,  in  the  room  of  a  friend, 
as  friends  go,  —  one  of  the  men  whose  boundaries  had 
been  made  by  circumstances  to  touch  his  own,  without 
their  inner  selves  coming  in  contact.  In  this  log-hut, 
for  it  was  hardly  more,  he  sat  smoking  a  pipe,  which 
was  any  thing  but  a  pipe  of  peace  to  him.  It  was  one 
of  those  days  in  early  winter  when  a  sudden  thaw  un- 
locks the  scarcely  frozen  streams,  and  scatters  the  snow 
like  hoar-frost  under  the  sun.  Some  fascination  drew 
him  to  the  open  window  in  time  to  see  the  wedding- 
guests  disperse,  and  the  wedded  couple  repair  to  tho 


308  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

house  which  was  to  be  their  home.  They  two  alone, 
till  death  did  them  part.  The  words  of  the  marriage 
covenant  floated  through  his  mind.  No,  nothing  in  life 
could  separate  Blossom  from  him.  More  than  that,  he 
even  went  beyond  the  words  of  the  prayer-book.  She 
was  his,  living  or  dying:  even  death  could  not  come 
between  true  hearts.  But  he  bowed  his  head  upon  his 
arms,  and  groaned  aloud.  How  he  hungered  for  the 
sight  of  her  face  !  The  warm  west  wind  sweeping  over 
the  open  prairie  touched  his  forehead  as  it  had  done 
that  spring  morning  only  a  few  short  months  back, 
when  they  two  had  walked  the  same  path  to  the  same 
door,  —  they  two,  but  one.  He  recalled  her  shy  trem- 
bling as  she  crossed  the  threshold.  The  door  closed 
after  them,  shutting  out  the  dropping  rain,  shutting  out 
the  curious  world.  Oh  the  bliss  of  that  moment  when 
he  took  her  in  his  arms ! 

He  was  roused  from  a  revery  akin  to  delirium  by  the 
grinding  of  a  step  on  the  bare  floor.  At  such  a  time 
every  comer  is  a  messenger.  He  started  up,  his  heart 
striking  great  blows,  like  a  hammer  in  a  heavy  hand. 
But  it  was  only  the  young  captain  whose  quarters  he 
had  invaded. 

"  Halloo,  Elyot,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you've  sat  here 
the  blessed  afternoon  long !  Why,  man,  the  mail's  in !  " 
His  hands  were  full  of  letters  and  papers. 

Captain  Elyot  staggered  to  his  feet.  Death  itself 
could  hardly  have  painted  a  more  ghastly  face  than  his 
as  he  tried  to  speak.  Then,  as  the  blood  rushed  back  to 
the  surface,  the  words  came  with  it. 

"Do  you  know  —  did  you  hear  my  name?"  Oh, 
what  an  agony  of  anxiety  was  in  the  question ! 

"'Pon  my  word  I   didn't!     I   never  heard  another 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  309 

name  but  my  own.  But  I'll  run  back  and  ask."  And 
the  kind-hearted  fellow,  who  knew,  as  did  everybody 
at  the  post,  of  Captain  Elyot's  suspense,  threw  down 
his  own  unopened  letters.  But  he  was  too  late.  Cap- 
tain Elyot  had  gone. 

He  was  pushing  with  fierce  strength  through  the 
little  crowd  of  disappointed  seekers  still  lingering  about 
the  chaplain,  who  held  half  a  dozen  unclaimed  missives 
in  his  hand.  When,  at  last,  breathless  and  panting,  he 
stood  face  to  face  with  this  man  who  held  for  him  life 
or  death  at  the  moment,  he  was  speechless.  They  all 
stood  back  (the  humblest  of  them  knew  his  trouble, 
and  respected  it),  while  the  chaplain  turned  the  letters 
over  unsteadily  in  his  hand. 

"Elyot,  Elyot.  There  must  be  some  mistake,  cap- 
tain :  I  don't  find  your  name." 

The  crowd  closed  upon  him ;  and  a  sudden  darkness 
seemed  to  fill  the  room, — a  whirling  darkness,  in  which 
he  reeled.  Some  one  laid  a  detaining  hand  upon  his 
own;  but  he  wrenched  himself  free,  and  struck  out 
instinctively  for  the  open  air  and  solitude,  in  which  he 
might  hide  his  hurt.  The  major's  wife  overtook  him 
walking  straight  away,  he  knew  not  where.  It  had  run 
through  the  garrison,  like  fire  in  grass,  that  no  news 
had  come  of  Elyot's  wife ;  and  the  kind,  blundering 
woman  had  put  her  own  letters  by  unread  to  search 
him  out. 

"Dear,  dear,  but  this  is  dreadful!  Still  it  will  be 
better  next  time:  it  must  be  better  next  time.  We 
should  not  have  placed  so  much  reliance  upon  this  one 
mail,  as  if  there  were  never  to  be  another !  And  yet 
I  am  convinced  there  are  letters  waiting  for  you  some- 
where, if  we  could  only  get  them." 


310  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

"  Thanks ;  but  I  will  not  trouble  you."  The  captain 
stood  up  very  straight,  and  removed  his  hat  as  he 
stepped  out  of  the  path  for  her  to  go  by. 

"  I  said  I  could  bear  it  if  the  worst  came."  His  eyes, 
looking  beyond  her,  were  glazed  and  tearless :  his  voice 
was  hollow,  but  held  no  tremor. 

She  burst  into  tears. 

"Don't  talk  to  me  about  trouble,  you  poor  boy! 
Are  we  not  all  one  family  here  ?  Come  home  with  me, 
and  we'll  see  what  can  be  done.  Your  letters  may 
have  gone  to  Fort  Wallace.  In  that  case,  we'll  soon 
hear  of  them.  Or  I  may  have  some  news  for  you. 
There  are  my  own  letters  to  read,  and  the  newspapers. 
We  have  forgotten  the  newspapers.  There  must  be 
something." 

Her  own  faint  hopes  gained  strength  with  this  last 
suggestion,  as  some  dim  recollection  of  the  "  personal " 
column  came  to  her  mind.  Might  not  Blossom,  igno- 
rant of  her  husband's  locality,  resort  to  this  method  of 
communicating  with  him  ? 

She  took  him  by  the  arm,  and  turned  him  about,  as 
though  he  had  been  a  child.  More  than  one  friend  saw 
and  eluded  them  as  they  retraced  their  steps.  No  one 
wished  to  meet  the  man  fresh  from  his  disappointment. 
But  Mrs.  Bryce's  tongue  ran  on. 

"  The  major'll  have  heard  of  it  by  this  time,  and  we'll 
hold  him  to  his  promise.  For  he  said,  if  nothing  came 
by  this  mail,  you  should  go  in  search  of  your  wife; 
though  how  you  ever  are  to  find  her  I  cannot  see.  And 
you  no  more  fit  to  set  out  on  such  a  journey  than  — 
than  Blossom  herself !  "  And,  indeed,  the  strength  he 
had  gained  in  his  long,  rough  ride  had  been  dragged 
away  from  him  by  these  anxious  weeks.  He  looked 
worn  and  broken. 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  311 

She  led  him  into  her  parlor,  and  seated  him  in  the 
most  comfortable  chair  it  contained*  Then  she  bustled 
about,  and  poured  out  a  glass  of  wine. 

"  There,  drink  that  while  I  look  over  my  letters." 
And  she  tore  the  first  open  in  haste.  "  But  I  forgot : 
where  are  the  newspapers?"  He  had  swallowed  the 
wine  at  a  draught,  and  lay  back  in  the  chair,  the  quiet 
of  utter  hopelessness  upon  him.  But  at  her  quick  tone, 
and  a  shower  of  newspapers,  he  sat  up,  and  began  to 
turn  them  over,  reading  their  superscriptions  with  vacant 
eyes,  too  weak  or  indifferent  to  look  farther. 

"It  will  at  least  take  up  his  mind,"  thought  Mrs. 
Bryce  as  she  ran  down  the  first  page  of  her  letter. 

"  And  be  sure  that  the  '  personals '  do  not  escape 
you,"  she  added  aloud,  but  without  raising  her  eyes 
from  the  sheet  before  her.  "I  have  known  very  re- 
spectable people  to  communicate  with  their  friends  in 
that  way;"  though  Mrs.  Bryce's  knowledge,  it  must  be 
owned,  was  by  report  rather  than  actual. 

Mechanically  turning  over  the  papers,  still  enclosed 
in  their  wrappers,  Captain  Elyot  paid  very  little  heed 
to  this  advice,  which  had  hardly  reached  his  under- 
standing, until  something  in  the  address  of  one  struck 
his  eye.  His  perceptions  were  dulled  by  the  blow  he 
had  received ;  but  a  strange  thrill  ran  through  his  veins 
at  sight  of  this  address,  —  Mrs.  Bryce's  name,  written 
in  an  odd,  heavy  hand,  a  chirography  regular,  yet  with- 
out elegance,  such  as  any  illiterate  person  of  methodical 
habits  might  acquire  by  years  of  enforced  use.  All  at 
once  he  seized  upon  the  resemblance  which  had  puzzled 
him.  It  was  not  unlike.the  hand  in  which  Mrs.  Stubbs 
had  been  accustomed  formerly  to  remind  her  patrons  of 
their  indebtedness  to  her. 


812  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

Mrs.  Bryce,  lost  in  her  letter,  had  entirely  forgotten 
her  companion.  She  had  settled  herself  comfortably 
to  the  deciphering  of  its  fourth  and  most  illegible  page, 
when  a  sound  like  a  shuddering  groan  reached  her 
ears,  recalling  her  to  the  present.  Captain  Elyot's  head 
had  fallen  forward  upon  his  breast.  The  man  was  un- 
conscious. A  scream  brought  Jinny  from  the  kitchen, 
and  hastened  the  steps  of  the  major,  just  entering  the 
house.  Some  one  took  the  open  newspaper  from  the 
loosened  fingers ,  and  then  they  saw  that  a  heavy  black 
line  had  been  drawn  about  one  column,  —  the  column 
of  deaths ;  and  they  read,  with  a  shock  of  surprise  and 
sorrow  which  no  words  can  tell :  — 

"Oct.  17,  Blossom,  wife  of  Captain  Robert  Elyot,  U.  S.  A. 
Aged  18." 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  313 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE   CITY  WITH  A  PAST. 

riHHERE  is  at  least  one  city  in  New  England  which 
-A-  boasts  of  a  past,  —  not  a  far-off  past,  shrouded  in 
beauty  and  mystery,  like  that  which  follows  in  the  foot- 
steps of  the  old-world  cities,  but  a  yesterday  only,  as 
nations  reckon  time,  the  story  of  which  is  remembered 
and  repeated  to-day.  And  lest  it  should  be  forgotten, 
with  the  lesson  it  is  believed  to  teach,  a  shaft  of  granite 
has  been  erected  in  the  town,  about  whose  summit  on 
cloudless  nights  the  stars  gather  and  shine.  Even  as  I 
write,  the  flags  are  but  just  lowered,  the  bells  have 
hardly  ceased  ringing,  the  echo  of  the  cannon  is  still 
in  my  ears,  which  celebrates  the  hundredth  anniversary 
of  the  event  which  gave  to  the  town  its  importance, 
and  to  a  scattered,  feeble  people  the  hope  of  becoming 
a  nation. 

It  does  not  matter  that  this  monument  really  com- 
memorates a  defeat,  instead  of  a  victory,  or  that  the 
battle  fought  here  bears  in  history  the  name  of  another 
height,  not  far  distant,  which  never  trembled  to  the 
thunder  of  cannon.  That  it  marks  the  beginning  of 
a  great  nation,  and  keeps  in  memory  a  struggle  for 
independence  which  was  successful  at  last,  are  enough 


314  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

to  endear  it  to  the  hearts  of  the  towns-people,  and  make 
it  the  shrine  of  a  continual  pilgrimage. 

Here  upon  every  day  in  the  year  is  seen  the  near- 
est approach  to  the  genus  tourist  we  Americans  can 
show  in  our  own  land ;  since  the  more  sober  sort  among 
us,  who  keep  within  the  generous  confines  of  our  own 
country,  still  hold  it  half  a  sin  to  give  ourselves  up  to 
ease,  and  idle  roaming  about.  Bridal  parties  come  here. 
Though  what  care  they,  happy,  self-engrossed  souls,  for 
General  ,  who,  without  food,  and  with  scant  am- 
munition for  his  men,  held  his  position  through  all  the 
long,  hot  day  a  hundred  years  ago?  or  for  General 

,  whose  fall  is  yet  considered  by  the  hearty  patriots 

of  the  town  to  be  of  scarcely  less  importance  than  that 
of  Adam  ?  Clerks  and  students  of  an  historical  turn  of 
mind,  off  on  a  brief  holiday,  find  their  way  here  also, 
with  a  straggling  multitude  of  miscellaneous  people,  — 
well-to-do  people  who  have  travelled  abroad,  and,  return- 
ing full  of  restlessness  and  national  pride,  are  inclined 
to  make  the  most  of  their  own  historical  relics ;  or  others 
less  successful,  who,  having  no  hope  of  viewing  foreign 
lands,  make  a  virtue  of  knowing  their  own.  Among 
the  first  may  occasionally  be  seen  the  traditional  tour- 
ist, recognized  by  his  clothes  (made  in  London),  by 
his  open  guide-book,  which  in  this  case  cannot  be  Mur- 
ray, but,  above  all,  by  his  air  of  indifference.  For  it  is 
the  proper  thing  to  do,  if  one  desires  to  be  a  genuine 
tourist,  to  travel  a  thousand  miles,  more  or  less,  to  see 
an  object,  and  to  view  it  at  last  with  a  stolidity  akin 
to  contempt. 

But  the  true  shrine-seekers,  the  real  hero-worshippers, 
come  like  pilgrims,  —  on  foot,  dusty,  and  travel-worn. 
Their  faces  are  often  old  and  wrinkled ;  their  garments 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  315 

worn  and  queer.  Not  for  them  wait  the  carriages  by 
the  curbstone  at  the  foot  of  the  mound.  They  climb 
the  high  steps  with  many  a  pause,  their  hearts  filled 
with  holy  emotion,  their  eyes  blessed  with  double  sight, 
—  of  time  that  was  and  time  that  is.  For  them  bugle 
and  drum,  and  cry  of  wounded  men,  mingle  with  the 
peaceful  drone  of  busy  life  in  the  town  below ;  and  the 
shaft  of  stone,  over  which  the  summer  sun  creeps  lazily 
is  an  altar  red  with  the  blood  of  patriots. 

From  the  windows  of  the  handsome  houses  in  the 
square  surrounding  the  monument,  the  towns-people 
look  out  approvingly  upon  all  this  adoration,  unlike  the 
inhabitants  of  many  a  storied  city  in  other  lands,  who 
wonder  stupidly  why  travellers  should  come  so  far  to 
view  what  they  regard  so  little,  be  it  memento  to  saint 
or  hero.  Here  one  shred  of  history  preserved  through 
a  hundred  years,  a  martyr  or  two  to  liberty  (whose  names 
are  almost  forgotten),  have  served  to  bind  the  older 
inhabitants  together  like  a  chain ;  have  dwarfed  other 
objects  in  importance,  as  though  they  had  indeed  been 
viewed  from  the  top  of  the  monument  itself ;  and  aroused 
a  pride  almost  like  personal  vanity.  Nor  is  this  to  be 
wondered  at  in  the  people  to  whom  have  been  com- 
mitted, if  not  the  oracles,  at  least  the  traditions  of 
this  spot. 

But  all  this  is  changing,  and  passing  away.  Already 
the  town  has  been  swallowed  up  by  the  larger  and 
adjoining  municipality.  A  tide  from  the  outside  world 
brings  indifference  to  the  glory  of  the  past.  We  look 
to  the  future.  A  hundred  years  more,  and  the  tourist 
wandering  over  the  neglected  mound,  so  carefully  kept 
now,  may  find  the  monument  converted  into  a  vast 
chimney  to  serve  the  purposes  of  a  new  age  I 


316  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

But,  although  we  write  of  a  past,  the  monument 
was  erected  scarce  half  a  century  ago.  The  square 
about  it  is  new.  The  houses  are  new  and  clean. 
More  than  one  generation  must  sweep  by  before  they 
attain  to  the  mouldy  ugliness  of  respectable  age.  But 
in  the  less  fashionable  parts  of  the  town,  dingy  old, 
wooden  mansions  belonging  to  the  time  of  its  earlier, 
though  not  to  its  first  settlement,  still  abound.  Poor  old 
houses  I  They  have  been  exposed  to  fire.  They  have 
been  drawn  and  quartered  and  sawn  asunder,  not  to 
mention  the  indignity  of  being  given  over  at  last  to  the 
refuse  population. 

Some,  however,  from  their  situation  and  connections, 
like  high-born  recusants,  have  fared  better  than  their 
contemporaries.  Among  these,  most  fortunate  of  all, 
perhaps,  has  been  the  Brock  house,  where  old  Jeremy 
Brock  had  spent  many  years  of  a  long  life,  and  from 
which,  at  last,  he  had  passed  away  to  a  mansion  even 
less  destructible,  it  is  to  be  hoped. 

The  High  Street,  which  skirts  one  side  of  the  monu- 
ment, had,  like  the  sword  of  a  conqueror,  cut  its  way 
through  this  old  house,  just  beyond  the  square.  The 
wound  healed,  having  been  patched  up  with  brick  and 
mortar,  and  the  street  went  its  way  years  ago,  without 
heeding  the  harm  it  had  done,  or  turning,  indeed,  to 
the  right  or  left ;  but  the  scar  remains.  The  entrance 
to  the  house  is  upon  the  side.  There  is  a  garden  here, 
filling  up  the  corner  where  this  cruel,  blood-thirsty  street 
intersects  a  more  peaceable  thoroughfare  descending  the 
hill.  It  is  shut  in  from  curious  eyes  by  a  high  wooden 
fence  ;  and,  as  though  this  were  not  enough,  the  last  has 
been  surmounted  by  a  narrow  lattice.  But,  in  truth, 
there  is  nothing  to  screen  or  conceal,  as  any  one  may 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  317 

see  through  the  gaping  cracks  in  the  wooden  wall,— 
nothing  more  than  a  sloping  grass-plot  and  a  few  old 
trees,  which,  perhaps,  ran  down  the  hill  when  they  were 
young  and  frolicsome,  and  have  grown  too  crooked  and 
old  and  rheumatic  to  return.  A  narrow  border  of  flow- 
ers did  once  follow  the  path  from  the  gate  to  the  door , 
and,  at  the  tune  of  which  we  write,  a  few  daring  crocuses 
still  thrust  themselves  up  through  the  mould  in  early 
spring-time,  to  stare  about  with  pale,  frightened  faces. 
A  great  straggling  bunch  of  phlox,  too,  nodded  with 
disagreeable  familiarity  from  under  the  windows ;  but 
that  was  all.  Nothing  which  betokened  care  or  fond 
pride  bloomed  in  the  garden  now. 

The  house  itself,  with  its  closed  blinds,  seemed  like  a 
man  who  had  shut  his  eyes  before  going  to  destruction. 
It  had  been  uninhabited  since  the  death  of  its  owner. 
Poor  old  Jeremy  Brock !  He  had  outlived  all  his  chil- 
dren, and  died  alone  at  last.  Though,  if  they  had  been 
spared,  he  would  still,  perhaps,  have  died  alone ;  for 
they  met  but  to  disagree,  and  separated  in  anger  more 
than  once.  Repentance  and  forgiveness  were  not  un- 
known in  the  family ;  but  both  were  short-lived.  The 
old  man  was  exacting,  his  sons  reckless  and  waste- 
ful ;  and  his  one  daughter  (as  wilful  as  handsome)  chose 
beggary  and  a  worthless  husband  to  hard  obedience  and 
plenty.  They  scattered  far  and  wide,  each  pursuing  his 
or  her  own  desires.  Death  only,  by  a  wide  sweep  of 
his  scythe,  gathered  them  together  at  last. 

When  his  children  were  all  gone,  the  old  man  looked 
about  him  for  an  heir.  He  was  proud  of  his  ancestry, 
if  not  of  his  immediate  family,  and  had  no  mind  that 
the  latter  should  die  out.  He  had  been  careful  of  his 
means  even  to  miserliness,  and  hated  to  feel  that  an- 


318  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

other  must  spend  what  he  had  hoarded ;  yet  he  adopted 
for  his  successor  the  open-handed,  careless  son  of  his 
only  sister,  —  his  heir-by-law  since  the  death  of  his  last 
son.  He  fancied  that  the  good-nature  of  young  Robert 
Elyot  might  prove  to  be  tractability,  a  common  mistake 
enough,  which  he  was  years  in  finding  out ;  for  the  pro- 
fession of  the  army,  which  the  young  man  had  chosen, 
allowed  him  but  little  leisure ;  and  his  visits  were  brief, 
and  seldom  to  his  uncle's  house.  Then,  too,  the  old 
man,  from  some  odd  contrariety  of  disposition,  was  fond 
of  the  handsome  young  soldier,  who  would  do  credit  to 
the  family,  he  thought,  when  he  was  dead  and  gone,  and 
had  even  something  of  a  head  for  accounts,  which  none 
of  his  own  boys  had  possessed.  He  altered  his  manner 
of  life,  in  a  measure,  on  the  occasion  of  young  Elyot's 
visits,  opening  the  house  to  visitors,  grudgingly  indeed, 
but  gratifying  his  own  pride  thereby ;  for  everybody 
courted  and  nattered  the  young  man.  They  would  have 
spoiled  him,  had  he  been  less  than  he  was.  But  this 
adulation,  though  it  fed  his  pride,  and  added  to  his  self- 
importance  for  the  time,  did  no  great  harm.  A  few 
weeks  among  his  male  companions  at  school  or  in  camp 
soon  rubbed  out  any  false  quantity  of  either.  His  uncle 
made  him  a  generous  allowance,  enough  to  furnish  some 
grounds  for  his  expectations;  increasing  it  when  he 
found  that  play,  that  curse  of  an  idle  life,  was  not 
among  his  nephew's  failings.  Nor  was  this  confidence 
thrown  away.  Captain  Elyot  was  open-handed,  without 
being  wasteful.  Not  but  that  he  fell  into  various  minor 
extravagances,  and  gained  experience  as  dearly  as  most 
people.  But  warned,  perhaps,  by  the  example  of  his 
cousins,  and  knowing  full  well  the  result  of  such  a 
course  as  theirs,  he  avoided  debt,  and,  by  keeping  within 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  319 

his  income,  gained  a  firm  place  in  the  esteem  of  his 
uncle,  to  whom  a  wasteful  hand  was  worse  than  a  pesti- 
lence. 

All  went  smoothly  enough  for  a  few  years,  until  such 
a  time,  as  we  already  know,  when  the  old  man  would 
have  provided  a  wife  for  his  nephew.  And  here,  for  the 
first  time,  the  well-trained,  tractable  young  heir  proved 
restive.  Still  old  Jeremy,  who  was  beginning  to  enjoy 
this  new  experience  of  having  his  own  way,  could  not 
for  a  moment  believe  that  Captain  Elyot  would  really 
set  himself  against  his  wishes.  "  For  there's  the  money," 
thought  the  old  man.  "  How  will  he  ever  expect  to  get 
the  money  if  he  goes  against  my  wishes  ?  "  To  him  — 
to  this  old  man  just  ready  to  don  his  grave-clothes,  and 
step  into  his  tomb  —  the  money  was  every  thing.  He 
did  not  realize,  that,  to  young  life  just  becoming  con- 
scious of  the  throb  of  its  pulses,  all  things  seem  possible, 
and  many  more  desirable  than  hard,  yellow  gold  to 
clutch  in  the  hand.  Even  so  intangible  a  thing  as 
liberty  is  sweeter.  So,  indeed,  Captain  Elyot  was  be- 
ginning to  feel. 

There  was  a  grand-niece  down  upon  the  Jersey  shore, 
whom  old  Mr.  Brock  had  not  seen  since  she  was  a  child. 
But  this  was  the  girl  he  had  selected  to  be  his  nephew's 
wife.  He  knew  nothing  of  her  beyond  the  fact  that  she 
was  of  a  suitable  age,  —  a  year  or  two  more  or  less  did 
not  matter.  And  it  would  keep  the  money  in  the  family, 
he  thought  with  a  quiet  chuckle,  when  the  idea  first 
occurred  to  him.  He  had  not  been  blind  to  the  adula- 
tion offered  to  his  heir.  "It's  the  money,"  he  said, 
when  he  saw  how  one  and  another  of  the  mothers  with 
marriageable  daughters  smiled  upon  him,  and  asked  him 
to  their  houses.  Any  one  of  these  girls,  who  simpered 


320  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

and  blushed  at  his  approach,  the  boy  might  have  for  the 
asking.  He  was  mistaken  there,  as  he  was  in  reckoning 
upon  his  nephew's  greed,  gauging  it  by  his  own.  Gold 
does  not  always  shine  in  young  eyes ;  and  love  will  some- 
times claim  its  own,  thank  God !  in  spite  of  wealth  and 
scheming. 

He  was  by  no  means  discouraged  when  young  Elyot 
laughed  at  the  suggestion  that  he  should  pay  a  visit  to 
his  Jersey  relatives,  and  search  out  this  distant  cousin ; 
for  the  young  man  could  not  regard  it  as  a  serious 
proposition.  Even  when  he  came  to  see  that  the  idea 
had  taken  possession  of  the  old  man's  mind,  he  only 
avoided  the  subject,  and  at  last  shortened  his  visit,  be- 
lieving, that,  in  his  absence,  it  would  soon  be  forgotten. 

But  no  sooner  had  he  gone  than  uncle  Jeremy  him- 
self began  negotiations.  He  sent  for  his  grand-niece  to 
pay  him  a  visit;  and  when  she  came,  by  a  surprising 
good-fortune  she  proved  to  be  all  that  he  could  have 
desired,  —  amiable,  well-bred  (for  the  Brocks  came  of 
good  stock,  and  inherited  a  fine  address  as  well  as  cer- 
tain other  more  tangible  possessions),  of  a  sweet,  frank 
nature,  indeed.  She  was  a  year  or  two  older  than  her 
cousin,  to  be  sure,  whom  she  had  never  seen,  and  per- 
sisted in  regarding  as  a  boy ;  but  that  was  a  matter  of 
no  consequence. 

"She'll  be  all  the  more  likely  to  keep  him  in  a 
straight  road,"  he  said.  For  uncle  Jeremy  knew,  and 
dreaded  to  be  reminded  again,  of  all  the  by-ways  and 
turnings  which  the  course  of  a  young  man  was  likely 
to  take. 

He  said  nothing,  for  a  while,  of  his  matrimonial  pro- 
ject in  her  behalf ;  and  Mary  Lane,  believing  that  she 
had  been  asked  from  pure  good-will  and  family  feeling, 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  321 

gave  herself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  her  visit.  The 
house  was  dull,  —  for  the  old  man  lived  alone,  with  a 
housekeeper  somewhat  younger  and  considerably  sourer 
than  himself, — but  Mary's  presence  enlivened  it  for 
the  time.  As  the  news  of  her  arrival  spread  about  the 
quiet  town,  one  after  another  of  the  families  in  the 
neighborhood,  comprising  its  "best"  society,  came  to 
pay  their  respects  to  old  Mr.  Brock's  niece,  beginning 
with  Mrs.  Mincer,  a  widow  of  widows,  with  whom 
mourning  had  become  a  habit,  and  whose  eyes  leaked 
like  a  neglected  roof.  It  was  but  natural  that  she 
should  lead  the  advance,  since,  having  no  family  cares 
(for  she  was  childless),  the  time,  as  she  often  affirmed 
with  a  sigh,  hung  heavy  upon  her  hands.  Then,  too, 
she  was  one  of  old  Jeremy's  nearest  neighbors,  making 
her  home  with  her  sister's  family,  the  Wymans,  in  a 
showy  house  just  around  the  corner,  upon  the  square. 
She  carried  a  favorable  report  of  the  stranger  to  her 
friends,  and  again  the  old  man  saw  one  of  his  kin 
courted  and  made  much  of.  This  was  as  it  should  be. 
It  was  proper  and  right  that  the  girl  should  make 
friends  against  the  time  when  she  came  here  to  live  as 
his  nephew's  wife.  So  Mary,  quite  unconscious  of  the 
source  of  the  old  man's  evident  gratification,  entered 
into  all  the  gayety  prepared  in  her  honor,  drawing  about 
her  such  a  crowd  of  followers,  for  there  was  some- 
thing extremely  winning  in  the  air  and  face  of  the 
young  woman,  —  that  the  old  man  began  to  be  alarmed 
for  his  nephew ;  alarmed  and  angry  above  all  with  the 
open,  evident  admiration  of  Tom  Akers,  the  son  of  a 
neighbor,  and  unfortunately  irreproachable  as  to  both 
family  and  character. 

It  was  time  the  young  woman  was  informed  of  the 


822  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

honor  prepared  for  her.  He  began  to  think  it  a  mistake 
that  she  had  not  been  told  before  :  so,  one  morning, 
when  she  had  come  down  late  to  breakfast,  after  an 
evening  out  (old  Jeremy  could  have  sworn  that  he  had 
heard  Tom  Akers's  voice  at  the  door  an  hour  after  mid- 
night), he  prepared  to  open  the  subject. 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  323 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

OLD  JEREMY'S  NIECE. 

breakfast-room  looked  out  upon  the  garden. 
-L  The  morning  sun  found  its  way  in  at  the  srnall- 
paned  windows,  and  lay  in  great,  dusty,  golden  bars 
across  the  heavy,  worn  furniture  of  the  handsome  old 
room  ;  but  it  could  not  brighten  the  face  of  Miss  Bunce 
the  housekeeper,  who  appeared  more  bilious  and  sullen 
than  ever  as  she  brought  in  the  coffee-urn,  and  prepared 
to  set  out  the  breakfast,  at  an  hour  quite  unusual  in  the 
well-regulated  household. 

"Sit  down,  Bunce,  sit  down,"  said  uncle  Jeremy  a 
little  sharply,  when  that  useful  female  had  travelled  in 
and  out  at  the  door  a  dozen  times,  with  an  aggravating 
creak  in  her  shoes,  which  only  added  to  the  old  man's 
nervousness.  He  held  open  upon  his  knees  the  Bible, 
in  which  he  regularly  read  a  chapter  every  morning, 
not  even  omitting  those  filled  with  genealogies.  It  was 
a  kind  of  superstitious  rite,  not  to  be  set  aside.  And 
how  did  he  know  but  neglecting  these  last  might  prove 
the  jot  or  tittle  which  should  finally  count  against  him  ? 
He  laid  the  book  aside  now,  and  took  his  place  at  the 
table,  awaiting  Miss  Bunce,  whose  movements  seemed 
more  energetic  than  usual  this  morning. 


324  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

"  Come,  come,  Bunce,  that  will  do.  Sit  down,  and 
let  us  be  comfortable." 

Old  Jeremy  could  be  sharp  enough  to  others;  but 
rumor  said  that  he  lived  in  wholesome  awe  of  this 
woman,  who  had  managed  his  house  for  half  a  score  of 
years. 

"  There's  no  such  thing  for  me  as  sitting  down  at  this 
hour.  I've  matters  to  attend  to  as'll  spoil  to  be  kept 
waiting,"  replied  the  amiable  female.  "  Perhaps  Miss 
Mary'd  take  the  trouble  to  pour  your  coffee  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  I  will."  And  Mary  took  the  head  of 
the  table  as  Miss  Bunce  left  the  room,  closing  the  door 
after  her  with  a  jar  which  set  old  Jeremy's  teeth  on 
edge.  "Bunce  grows  worse  and  worse,  uncle.  How 
do  you  get  along  with  her  ?  " 

Mary  put  two  lumps  of  sugar  into  old  Jeremy's  cup 
as  she  stepped  thus  carelessly  upon  eggs,  as  it  were. 

"  Bunce  is  well  enough,"  her  uncle  replied  shortly. 
"  She'll  last  my  time." 

"  But  old  people  should  take  to  comfortable  ways," 
persisted  the  young  woman.  "  And  she  grows  worse,  I 
am  sure.  I  fancy  I  can  see  a  change  in  these  few  weeks. 
She  is  decidedly  cross.  There  is  something  positively 
aggressive  in  the  creak  of  her  shoes." 

But  her  uncle  did  not  laugh.  He  was  slowly  eating 
his  breakfast,  and  revolving  in  his  mind  how  he  could 
best  tell  his  niece  of  the  future  he  had  in  store  for  her. 
Might  not  this  be  as  good  an  opportunity  as  any  ? 

"  Bunce  may  have  reasons  for  seeming  out  of  temper 
with  you,"  he  said  solemnly.  His  manner  when  grave 
was  always  solemn.  He  was  a  small  old  gentleman,  of 
florid  complexion  and  apoplectic  build :  he  was  rather 
benevolent  as  to  general  appearance,  but  could  be  testy 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  325 

as  a  spoiled  child,  if  opposed.  "  Perhaps  she  fancies 
that  you  mean  to  supplant  her  one  day." 

"/  turn  housekeeper?  You  are  laughing  at  me, 
uncle  Jeremy." 

But  uncle  Jeremy  was  not  in  a  light  mood  she  saw 
at  once. 

"I  don't  mind  telling  you,  Mary,  as  you  are  a  sensi- 
ble girl,  that  I  have  something  on  my  mind  which  con- 
cerns you." 

The  color  deepened  a  little  in  the  old  man's  face,  and 
he  was  not  quite  at  ease  as  he  uttered  this  preliminary 
remark.  To  tell  the  truth,  now  that  the  time  had  come, 
he  found  it  a  somewhat  difficult  matter  to  announce  his 
scheme  to  his  niece.  She  was  not  a  young  girl,  to  be 
led  entirely  by  her  elders ;  and  she  had,  he  knew,  a  high 
spirit  of  her  own.  What  if  she  should  resent  the  inter- 
ference ?  He  was  a  testy  old  gentleman,  and  could  be 
disagreeable  enough  upon  occasions ;  but  he  was,  after 
all.  of  a  timid  disposition,  unless  aroused. 

"I  would  like  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you,"  he 
went  on,  fidgeting  with  his  knife  and  fork,  and  finally 
laying  them  down. 

"  Very  well,  uncle,"  Mary  replied  quite  gravely  now, 
leaning  back  in  her  chair.  What  could  it  mean  ?  Had 
she  displeased  him  by  her  irregular  manner  of  life  since 
she  came?  But  no:  she  had  accepted  the  civilities  of 
his  friends  with  his  approval.  He  had  not  objected  to 
the  late  hours  this  involved  of  necessity,  and  had  even 
himself  suggested  that  the  breakfast  be  pushed  forward 
an  hour,  which  was,  without  doubt,  the  occasion  of 
Bunco's  ill  temper.  He  spoke  of  her  supplanting  the 
latter.  Could  it  be  that  he  was  about  to  ask  her  to 
leave  her  own  home,  and  come  to  live  with  him? 


326  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

The  old  man's  eye  was  upon  her  as  she  leaned  back 
in  her  chair,  the  color  coming  and  going  in  her  cheek 
with  these  shifting  suggestions.  She  was  not  young. 
At  least  she  had  lost  the  roundness  and  bloom  of  young 
girlhood ;  but  the  outline  of  both  face  and  figure  was 
still  full  enough  for  beauty,  and  with  her  clear,  fair  skin, 
just  showing  a  touch  of  color,  her  clear,  gray  eyes,  and 
the  dark  hair  folded  smoothly  away  from  her  small  ears, 
she  was  pleasant  to  look  at.  The  young  heir  might  go 
farther,  and  fare  worse.  So  the  old  man  thought  as  .his 
gaze  rested  on  her. 

"You  know  you  are  not  rich,  Mary,"  he  began 
abruptly. 

"  No,  uncle ;  but  I  have  never  wanted  for  any  thing. 
And  then  I  am  happy  in  having  rich  friends,  who 
supply  my  fancied  needs,"  she  added  lightly.  Her  eyes 
had  fallen  upon  the  dark  gold  bands  about  her  wrists, 
a  present  from  uncle  Jeremy  only  the  day  before.  I 
am  afraid  he  had  not  been  innocent  of  bribery. 

"  And  you  are  getting  on,  Mary,  —  getting  on.  Let 
me  see  "  — 

"Twenty-seven  next  Christmas."  A  quick  flush 
crossed  her  face,  though  she  laughed  quietly.  "  But 
really,  uncle,  it  is  hardly  fair  to  bring  up  all  my  disad- 
vantages at  once. 

"  It  is  time  you  were  thinking  of  settling  in  life." 

He  pursued  the  subject  in  his  mind,  having  once 
made  a  beginning,  without  the  slightest  heed  to  her  side 
remarks. 

"But  I  have  thought  of  it.  I  have  hardly  been 
allowed  to  think  of  any  thing  else.  There  is  not  an 
old  woman  of  my  acquaintance  who  does  not  shake  her 
head  over  my  misfortune  or  perversity,  and  remind  me 
of  the  flight  of  time." 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  327 

"  Could  you  be  contented  to  live  here  ?  —  so  far  from 
your  friends,  I  mean.  Could  you  be  happy  among 
these  new  friends  you  have  made  ?  " 

Something  like  this  Tom  Akers  had  asked  her  the 
night  before,  when  they  stood  for  a  moment  at  the  door 
in  parting,  —  only  to  watch  the  moon  shining  through 
the  leafless  branches  of  the  great  elm  at  the  corner. 

"  I  might  —  I  think  I  could,"  she  answered,  the  blush 
deepening  on  her  face. 

Old  Mr.  Brock  drew  away  from  the  table,  and  rested 
his  feet  upon  the  fender,  prepared  to  make  himself  com- 
fortable, since  Mary  was  likely  to  prove  so  docile. 

"  Well,  Mary,  you  know,  of  course,  that  Robert  is  to 
be  my  heir.  I  have  never  made  any  secret  of  it;  and  I 
believe  I  wrote  you,  in  asking  you  to  come  here,  that 
it  would  make  no  difference  in  regard  to  the  property." 

"  Certainly,  it  was  quite  understood,"  the  young 
woman  said  quickly.  Could  it  be  that  her  uncle  sus- 
pected her  of  trying  to  supplant  her  cousin  Robert? 
Had  Bunce  suggested  it? 

"  I  have  been  thinking  for  some  time  that  it  would  be 
well  for  Robert  to  marry.  There  is  no  reason  why  he 
should  not  leave  the  army,  and  come  home  and  try  his 
hand  at  managing  affairs,"  old  Jeremy  went  on  reflec- 
tively. "  And,  after  thinking  it  well  over,  I  have  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  he  can't  do  better  than  to  marry 
you." 

"Me,  uncle?"  Mary  started  upright  in  her  chair, 
entirely  taken  by  surprise  by  the  turn  of  his  reflections. 

"  Yes,  yow,"  the  old  man  said,  lowering  his  thick  eye- 
brows, and  seeming  to  swell  inside,  as  he  always  did  at 
the  first  suspicion  of  opposition.  "And  why  not? 
You  would  both  be  provided  for,  and  there'd  be  an  end 


328  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

of  it.  For  I  must  say,  Mary,  I  should  like  to  do  some- 
thing for  you ;'  but  it  is  too  late  to  change  every  thing 
now  without  robbing  your  cousin." 

"  But  I  am  two  years  older  than  cousin  Robert,"  she 
gasped,  striving  for  a  moment  of  time  to  rally  her  forces. 

"  What  of  that  ?  Your  aunt  (your  great-aunt)  was 
ten  years  older  than  I ;  but  that  only  gave  her  expe- 
rience. She  had  got  over  her  flightiness,  and  was  all 
the  more  capable  to  manage  the  house.  There  were 
few  like  her,"  the  old  man  went  on  slowly,  and  shaking 
his  head. 

"  But,  uncle "  (something  throbbed  in  the  girl's 
throat,  and  choked  her),  "  have  you  spoken  of  this  to 
Robert?" 

He  could  not  tell  her  that  he  had  not  only  spoken, 
but  written,  to  him,  and  more  than  once,  and  so  far 
without  visible  effect. 

"I  did  say  something  to  him,  when  he  was  home  last, 
about  going  down  to  visit  his  Jersey  relatives,  and,  may- 
be, hinted  that  it  might  be  well  for  you  two  to  know 
each  other." 

The  old  man  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair  while  he 
gave  utterance  to  this  feeble  prevarication ,  but  Mary 
saw  that  there  was  more  behind  his  words.  And 
Robert  had  not  come.  He  had  felt,  without  doubt,  like 
resenting  the  meddlesome  plan,  as  did  she.  And  yet 
she  was  conscious  of  a  momentary  feeling  of  anger  at 
his  indifference.  He  might,  at  least,  have  taken  the 
pains  to  come  and  see  what  this  cousin  was  like,  who 
had  been  thus  thrown  at  his  feet. 

"  And  are  you  sure,  uncle,  that  your  suggestion  did 
not  come  too  late  ?  Cousin  Robert  must  have  met  more 
than  one  pretty  girl.  How  do  you  know  that  he  has 
not  lost  his  heart  ahead}'  out  there  where  he  is  ?  " 


HIS    INHERITANCE.  329 

"  That  isn't  at  all  likely,"  the  old  man  said  shortly. 
"He  knows  well  enough  that  I'll  have  no  tramping 
soldier's  daughter  brought  here  to  waste  the  property. 
No,  no !  the  sooner  he  gets  out  of  the  army,  and  settles 
down  with  a  good,  sensible  wife,  the  better." 

"Yes,  uncle,  if  he  can  be  made  to  think  so." 

"  But  he  shall  think  so  !  "  the  old  man  replied  angrily. 
"  He  shall  think  as  I  say,  or  he  shall  have  nothing  of 
mine." 

Mary  Lane  said  no  more.  She  rose  up  from  the 
table,  and  went  and  stood  before  a  small  miniature 
hanging  upon  the  wall.  She  had  noticed  it  often ;  but 
she  had  never  scrutinized  it  until  now.  It  was  of  a 
boy  just  entering  his  teens  (her  cousin  Robert,  whom 
she  had  never  seen),  an  open,  boyish  face,  with  thick 
and  rather  long  red-brown  hair,  brushed  away  from  a 
tolerable  forehead,  —  the  picture  of  a  frank  and  rather 
handsome  boy  in  his  first  pride  of  youth,  and  bright 
buttons ;  for  he  was  in  his  cadet's  dress.  It  was  hardly 
fair  that  she  should  decide  her  future  from  this  picture, 
by  which  she  would  never  have  recognized  the  dashing 
soldier-cousin  now.  But  she  was  not  thinking  of  that 
at  all.  Her  uncle's  angry  mood  had  startled  her  as 
much  as  his  proposal  had  shocked  her;  and  scanning 
the  square  jaw  and  firm  mouth,  with  a  kind  of  pleasure, 
too,  in  the  frank  face,  she  felt  that  he  might  find  it  yet 
a  difficult  matter  to  bend  this  will  to  his. 

"Never  mind  Robert,"  the  old  man  said,  —  he  was  a 
little  ashamed  of  his  outburst  of  temper,  and  fancied, 
like  many  another  angry  person,  that  he  had  shown  all 
he  felt,  —  "  it  is  of  you  I  wanted  to  talk." 

What  should  she  say  ?  how  should  she  answer  him  ? 
for,  however  much  he  might  beat  about  this  question, 


330  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

an  answer  he  would  have,  she  knew.  Of  course  she 
could  make  but  one  reply ;  but  she  was  mortified  and 
pained  to  find  that  his  interest  in  her  had  only  been  for 
the  furtherance  of  this  scheme.  And  yet  it  could  not 
have  been  entirely  on  account  of  her  cousin  Robert ;  for 
had  he  not  owned  to  a  desire  to  do  something  for  her 
as  well  ?  It  must  be  that  he  had  loved  her  a  little  for 
her  own  sake.  And  how  could  she  vex  him  now  in  his 
own  house  ?  And  yet  she  must  make  him  understand 
that  this  thing  was  impossible.  She  did  not  ask  herself 
why  it  should  be  so ;  but  she  knew  in  her  heart  that  it 
was  not  to  be  considered  for  a  moment,  even  though 
her  cousin  Robert  should  come  and  ask  it  of  her  him- 
self; which  he  certainly  seemed  in  no  haste  to  do.  She 
came  slowly  away  from  the  picture  to  the  fire. 

"  Uncle,  you  speak  of  cousin  Robert's  preference ;  but 
—  you  do  not  think  of  me.  It  would  be  wise,  —  it 
would  be  worldly  wise,  I  mean,"  she  went  on  hurriedly. 
"  But  what  if  this  should  not  be  to  my  mind  ?  "  She 
looked  steadily  into  the  fire,  and  again  the  color  red- 
dened her  cheek:  her  very  throat  was  warm  as  she 
continued,  in  a  voice  hardly  more  than  a  whisper,  — 

"Every  woman  cherishes  a  possibility  which  she 
would  find  hard  to  give  up." 

"Don't  talk  in  riddles,"  the  old  man  said  testily, 
shifting  his  feet.  There  seemed  to  be  behind  these 
soft-spoken  words  a  power  of  resistance  not  pleasant  to 
consider. 

"I  mean,"  she  said,  slowly  lifting  her  eyes,  though 
the  red  flew  to  her  hair,  "  that  no  woman  would  be  will- 
ing to  assent  to  any  thing  which  would  put  it  out  of 
her  power  to  marry  the  man  she  loved,  —  if  love  should 
come  to  her."  The  last  words  were  hardly  above  her 
breath. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  331 

Her  gentle  beauty  touched  the  old  man's  heart. 
Surely  Robert  could  not  do  better. 

"But  why  should  not  that  be  Robert?"  he  asked 
with  a  smile.  "You  have  left  no  one  at  home?"  he 
added  with  sudden  suspicion,  his  face  darkening  again. 

She  shook  her  head  gravely. 

"  I  would  not  turn  my  hand  over  to  please  any  one 
of  them." 

"  And  of  course  there  is  no  one  here,"  the  old  man 
said  savagely,  making  a  fierce  thrust  at  the  fire.  "  They 
are  all  strangers  to  you,  good  enough  in  their  way,  pleas- 
ant acquaintances ;  but "  — 

"  Yes,  uncle,"  she  assented  slowly.  She  screened  her 
face  as  the  fire  blazed  up  under  the  poker  iii  the  old 
man's  hand. 

"  Then,  why  shouldn't  it  be  as  I  wish  ?  "  he  said  in  a 
more  persuasive  tone.  "  For  I  do  wish  it  very  much, 
Mary." 

"  But  it  isn't  for  me  to  say,"  she  replied,  beginning 
to  tremble,  yet  trying  to  speak  lightly.  "  You  would 
not  have  me  offer  my  hand  to  cousin  Robert,  or  tell  him 
that  he  might  have  me  for  the  asking  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  I  would  have  you  say  yes  when  that  time 
comes." 

"  Then  let  us  wait  until  it  does."  She  bent  over  and 
kissed  his  forehead ;  then  she  hastened  out  of  the  room. 


332  HIS   INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE   HEIR. 

i  UT  nothing  came  of  the  old  man's  scheme,  as  we 
know  very  well.  Mary  Lane  finished  her  visit 
before  spring,  and  went  to  her  home  without  having 
heard  any  thing  from  her  cousin  Robert.  By  the  exer- 
cise of  some  tact,  she  avoided  any  fresh  discussion  of 
this  subject,  which  was  by  no  means  pleasant  to  her. 
But  she  could  not  avoid  all  reference  to  it,  or  to  that 
possible  time  when  she  might  rule  and  reign  here  in  her 
uncle's  house.  So  annoying  did  these  suggestions 
become,  that  she  was  heartily  glad  at  last  when  the 
time  came  for  her  to  go ;  for  she  was  becoming  more 
and  more  conscious  of  a  feeling  which  would  make  it 
impossible  for  her  ever  to  accede  to  her  uncle's  wishes. 
The  possibility  which  she  had  blushingly  assured  him  to 
be  so  dear  to  a  woman's  heart  had  become  a  surety 
now.  She  would  have  returned  to  her  home  the  prom- 
ised wife  of  Tom  Akers,  but  that  there  seemed  a  kind  of 
disloyalty  in  giving  a  pledge  so  contrary  to  the  wishes 
of  her  uncle  while  still  under  his  roof. 

In  the  mean  time  old  Mr.  Brock  fretted  and  fumed 
inwardly  that  his  nephew  made  no  response  to  the  sug- 
gestions which  at  last  had  almost  taken  the  form  of  a 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  333 

command.  Captain  Elyot's  letters  were  cheerful  and 
gay  as  usual, — they  had  wonderfully  brightened  the 
old  man's  life  for  a  year  past,  —  but  there  had  been  no 
reference  whatever  to  the  subject  which  had  begun  to 
engross  the  latter's  mind.  Toward  spring  these  letters 
ceased  entirely.  At  first  uncle  Jeremy  attributed  this 
blank  to  the  difficulty  of  communication  between  East 
and  West,  and  the  irregularity  of  the  mails.  But  he 
was  beginning  to  feel  serious  uneasiness,  when,  one 
morning  early  in  the  summer,  Bunce  laid  aji  envelope 
beside  his  plate  addressed  in  Robert's  well-known  hand. 
The  sunbeams  seemed  to  quiver  in  the  old  man's  eyes 
as  he  hastily  opened  it.  He  read,  his  face  growing 
purple,  the  veins  swelling  in  his  forehead.  Then  he 
twisted  the  letter  out  of  all  shape,  with  a  sudden,  angry 
wrench,  and,  turning  about,  threw  it  into  the  waste- 
paper  basket. 

"  What  is  it?"  asked  Miss  Bunce  with  real  anxiety ; 
for  the  old  man  choked  and  swallowed  over  what  almost 
sounded  like  an  oath.  "  Mr.  Robert  is  well,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Send  in  the  breakfast,  Bunce.  How  many  times 
have  I  told  you  that  I  will  not  be  kept  waiting  ?  And 
don't  talk  to  me  about  '  Mr.  Robert,'  as  you  call  him. 
The  fool  has  gone  and  got  married ! " 

Later,  Miss  Bunce  found  the  letter,  and  read  it,  hav- 
ing smoothed  it  out  carefully  with  an  iron.  It  was  the 
one  written  immediately  after  Captain  Elyot's  marriage 
to  Blossom,  —  full  of  a  lover's  praises  of  her  sweet- 
ness and  beauty.  There  was  no  reference  to  her  for- 
tune, though  that  would  hardly  have  mollified  the  old 
man.  To  his  mind,  the  family  had  suffered  disgrace. 
With  all  their  wild  courses,  his  sons  had  never  in- 
grafted the  stock  with  bad  blood  by  a  low  marriage. 


334  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

That  had  been  left  for  his  dearest  child,  his  one  daugh- 
ter, to  bring  about,  and  now  for  this  young  man,  who 
was  as  his  own  son.  But  his  wounded  pride  made  him 
forget  the  soreness  of  his  heart  over  this  ingratitude. 
With  this  blow  he  turned  away  from  every  human 
being.  They  were  all  alike,  sycophants  and  deceivers. 
Even  his  grand-niece  Mary  Lane,  toward  whom  his 
heart  had  warmed,  failed  him  with  the  rest.  He  wrote 
her  of  her  cousin  Robert's  defection,  ashamed  for  the 
young  man,  ashamed  for  himself  at  having  so  aroused 
her  hopes,  as  he  believed,  but  with  the  sudden  deter- 
mination that  the  money  which  was  to  have  fallen  to 
Robert  should  now  be  hers:  it  would  in  a  measure, 
console  her.  And  there  came  a  reply  breathing  noth- 
ing like  sadness,  but  almost  a  spirit  of  rejoicing.  She 
assured  her  uncle  that  she  was  entirely  satisfied.  She 
even  pleaded  for  Robert  and  Robert's  wife,  and  at  the 
last  half-fearfully  announced  her  coming  marriage  with 
Tom  Akers,  and  hoped  her  dear  uncle  would  be  happy 
in  knowing  that  she  was  to  make  her  home  near  his. 
She  would  have  none  of  his  money :  that  belonged  to 
her  cousin  Robert.  But  the  old  man  swore  with  an 
oath  that  not  a  cent  of  it  should  ever  come  into  the 
hands  of  his  nephew.  It  seemed  as  though  the  prop- 
erty hoarded  so  carefully  would  have  to  go  begging 
for  an  owner  at  last. 

The  news  of  Captain  Elyot's  marriage  crept  about  the 
town.  Every  one  wondered,  and  everybody  blamed  the 
young  man ;  but  no  one  suspected  that  the  keenest  dis- 
appointment of  all  was  felt  by  old  Jeremy  when  bright 
Mary  Lane,  in  the  succeeding  autumn,  came  among 
them  as  Mrs.  Tom  Akers.  Even  Bunce  had  known 
nothing  of  this  scheme.  The  pride  of  the  old  man 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  335 

had  made  him  reticent  as  to  this  affair ;  but  every  one 
knew,  in  that  incomprehensible  way  by  which  the  most 
of  our  secret  purposes  and  wishes  are  known  to  the 
world,  that  Captain  Elyot  would  not  come  in  to  the 
property  now.  Who  would  be  the  heir  ? 

In  truth,  the  old  man  was  himself  at  a  loss  to  answer 
this  question.  He  was  neither  charitable  nor  philan- 
thropic. He  hated  institutions  founded  for  so-called 
benevolent  purposes.  He  believed  that  they  but  served 
selfish  ends,  after  all.  He  had  no  interest  in  the  con- 
version of  the  heathen.  To  him  the  ends  of  the  earth 
were  shrouded  in  the  darkness  of  utter  indifference. 
His  interest,  his  life-long  striving,  had  been  for  himself 
and  for  his  own :  now  he  must  pass  away  —  and  his 
own  had  failed  him. 

He  must  pass  away.  Others  saw  that  his  step  grew 
more  feeble,  his  voice* more  broken.  He  seemed  to  gain 
his  breath  with  an  effort ;  but  to  him  this  passing  away 
was  still  a  matter  of  a  far  future.  Why  should  he  try 
to  bring  it  near,  or  make  himself  realize  that  the  hand 
which  still  held  notes  and  bonds  and  mortgages  with 
such  an  eager  grasp  must  soon  turn  to  the  dust  of  the 
grave? 

Who  should  succeed  him?  Not  Tom  Akcrs's  wife. 
She  had  enough  and  to  spare.  Besides,  he  had  never 
in  his  heart  forgiven  her  for  what  he  chose  to  call  her 
deceitful  conduct.  She  had  kept  something  back  when 
he  had  believed  that  he  saw  every  corner  of  her  heart. 
He  had  no  right  to  such  a  wide  sweep  of  vision,  to  be 
sure;  but,  all  the  same,  he  had  never  forgiven  her. 
Who  should  succeed  him  ?  He  pondered  this  question 
often  and  long,  —  too  long ;  for  one  morning,  a  year  or 
more  after  Captain  Elyot's  marriage,  the  old  man  was 


336  HIS   INHEKITAXCE. 

found  dead  in  his  bed.  Azrael  had  been  merciful,  and 
had  stolen  from  his  summons  its  terror.  He  was  found 
with  as  peaceful  a  face  as  though  he  had  taken  his 
money  with  him  upon  his  long  journey. 

As  he  had  deferred  making  a  will  until  such  a  time  as 
he  could  decide  how  to  dispose  of  his  property,  months 
had  slipped  by,  and  he  had  made  no  will  at  all.  The 
very  delay  for  the  purpose  of  finding  a  successor  to 
Captain  Elyot  made  that  young  man  his  heir  after  all. 
He  was  next  of  kin,  and  came  into  the  estate. 

Nothing  had  been  known  of  him  since  the  report  of 
his  marriage.  The  unlucky  are  soon  forgotten  ;  and 
who  could  be  more  unlucky  than  he  who  was  believed 
to  have  lost  all  claim  to  the  property  by  this  unfortu- 
nate step  ?  The  most  absurd  stories  began  to  circulate 
as  soon  as  his  good-fortune  was  known.  They  all 
hinged  upon  this  marriage,  which  had  so  nearly  cost 
him  his  inheritance,  and  gathered  at  last  into  one  which 
came  to  be  almost  believed,  since  there  was  no  one  to 
deny  the  truth  of  it.  He  had  fallen  in  love  with  a 
pretty  young  Indian  girl :  he  had  married  a  half-breed 
in  that  wilderness  which  had  swallowed  him  up. 

And  now,  would  he  come  here  to  live  among  his  old 
friends  ?  Above  all,  would  he  dare  to  bring  this  wife  ? 
The  thought  of  an  Indian  squaw  domiciled  in  the 
Brock  house,  of  a  pappoose,  —  for  there  was  doubtless 
a  child,  though  no  one  knew,  —  a  pappoose  swinging  in 
its  cradle  of  bark  from  the  long  limbs  of  the  old  elm  at 
the  foot  of  the  garden,  brought  a  virtuous  shudder  to 
more  than  one  frame.  It  was  enough  to  make  old 
Jeremy  turn  in  his  grave. 

But  time  passed  on ;  and  nothing  was  known  of  the 
intentions  of  the  heir.  It  was  autumn  when  the  old 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  337 

man  died.  Winter  came ;  and  the  snow  drifted  in  upon 
the  neglected  pathway  to  the  door,  or  lay  where  it  fell, 
and  there  was  no  change.  The  old  house  alone  seemed 
utterly  unmoved  by  all  these  strange  reports.  It  did 
not  so  much  as  open  its  eyes.  The  spring  was  slipping 
away  at  last,  and  curiosity  had  nearly  exhausted  itself. 
Even  the  children  had  ceased  to  flatten  their  faces 
against  the  wooden  bars  of  the  gate,  looking  for  a 
wigwam  which  never  appeared,  when  a  bit  of  authentic 
intelligence  came  to  the  wide-open  ears  of  the  towns- 
people. Captain  Elyot  had  lost  his  wife,  not  recently, 
but  soon  after  his  marriage,  and  he  had  no  present 
intention  of  occupying  the  Brock  house.  He  had  given 
up  his  commission,  and  gone  abroad  for  an  indefinite 
time.  The  house  was  to  be  let. 

"  But  did  she  have  Indian  blood  in  her  veins  ? " 
More  than  one  eager  feminine  voice  asked  this  question 
of  mild  Mr.  Simpkins,  the  agent  of  the  property,  and 
old  Mr.  Brock's  man  of  business,  —  a  quiet,  retiring  old 
gentleman,  engaged  in  the  practice  of  law  in  the  neigh- 
boring city.  He  had  been  quite  overlooked  till  now, 
when  he  came  to  examine  into  the  condition  of  the 
house,  and  see  that  it  was  put  in  order  for  possible 
tenants. 

"  Indian  blood,  my  dear  lady  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 
he  asked  in  return.  Bunce  was  going  over  the  house 
with  the  agent,  putting  away  the  more  personal  effects 
of  her  old  master.  One  or  two  of  the  neighbors  had 
run  in  to  inquire  the  occasion  of  all  this  bustle.  It  was 
almost  believed  that  Captain  Elyot  had  arrived  at  last. 
Even  Mrs.  Tom  Akers,  seeing  the  windows  opened  for 
the  first  time  in  so  many  months,  and  being  as  much  in 
the  dark  in  regard  to  affairs  as  her  neighbors,  had 
stepped  in  to  ask  the  cause. 


338  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

"  Why,  they  do  say  that  Captain  Robert  married  a 
half-breed."  It  was  the  little  widow,  Mrs.  Mincer,  who 
had  ventured  to  broach  this  subject,  half  confidentially, 
while  Mrs.  Akers's  back  was  turned. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  Bunce  shortly,  before  Mr.  Simp- 
kins  could  reply.  "I  saw  the  letter  myself "  (she  did 
not  think  it  necessary  to  say  how)  ;  "  and  he  described 
her  as  a  sweet  young  lady,  —  as  sweet  as  you  could 
wish  to  see."  Pride  in  the  family,  with  past  favors  as 
well  as  future  possibilities,  made  Bunce  wary  in  her 
communications. 

"Then,  why  was  Mr.  Brock  so  angry?  You  said 
yourself,  Miss  Bunce,  at  the  time,  that  the  old  gentle- 
man had  disinherited  Captain  Robert  on  account  of  this 
marriage." 

"  Well,  perhaps  I  did."  Bunce  was  down  upon  her 
knees  before  the  old-fashioned  locker,  sorting  out  the 
quaint  old  decanters  and  glasses  hidden  away  in  its 
lowest  receptacle.  One  could  hardly  lie  in  such  an  atti- 
tude. "It  was  true,  as  Mr.  Simpkins  knows.  I  re- 
member the  morning  as  though  it  was  this  blessed  day. 
It  was  at  the  breakfast-table  that  he  opened  the  letter ; 
and,  when  I  came  in  with  the  coffee,  my  hand  shook  so 
that  I  poured  it  all  over  the  cloth.  I  thought  the  old 
gentleman  would  have  had  a  fit  that  time,  for  sure. 
The  doctor  "  — 

But  Mr.  Simpkins  interrupted  her. 

"Come,  co;ue,  Miss  Bunce,  I  shall  have  to  hurry  you 
a  little.  It's  ime  I  was  getting  back." 

"  There's  only  the  bed  and  table  linen  now,"  Bunce 
replied,  getting  up  from  her  humble  position.  "  I  might 
look  it  over  by  myself;  that  is,  if  you'd  trust  me,  sir. 
I  had  the  buying  of  the  most  of  it." 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  339 

"  To  be  sure,  to  be  sure,  if  you'll  lock  every  thing  up 
carefully  ;  "  and  the  agent  took  himself  away.  If  the 
housekeeper  chose  to  gossip  about  the  affairs  of  the 
family,  it  was  nothing  to  him.  But  he  could  not  counte- 
nance such  a  proceeding  by  his  presence. 

The  door  once  closed  after  him,  there  was  more  of 
ease  in  the  small  party. 

"  And  you  thought  he  would  have  had  a  fit,"  prompt- 
ed one,  seating  herself  comfortably  in  one  of  the  leather- 
covered  chairs  of  the  dining-room. 

"  Yes.  It  was  such  a  surprise,  you  see,  and  not  to 
Mr.  Brock's  mind  at  all,  though  she  was  a  beautiful 
young  lady,  he  wrote." 

Mrs.  Akers  felt  her  cheeks  burning,  as  she  moved 
away  from  the  group  standing  now  before  the  china- 
closet,  and  mingling  their  exclamations  of  surprise  with 
others  of  admiration  for  the  cups  and  plates  brought 
from  Holland  by  old  Jeremy's  ancestors  more  than  two 
hundred  years  before. 

"  We  never  used  them.  No,  ma'am.  Mr.  Brock 
prized  them  as  he  did  his  eyes,  and  would  hardly  let  me 
dust  'em.  Nobody  knows  what'll  become  of  them  now." 

"  Oh !  Captain  Robert  will  marry  again.  He'll  be 
coming  home  from  over  the  seas  with  a  new  wife  before 
long." 

Mrs.  Mincer  wiped  her  eyes. 

"  I  don't  know.     When  one  has  once  "  — 

"He  was  dreadfully  cut  up  over  her  death,"  Miss 
Bunce  broke  in.  "I  should  say  that  he  would  never 
marry  again." 

"  More  than  likely,"  murmured  Mrs.  Mincer,  from 
behind  the  folds  of  her  heavy  veil. 

"  But  I  can't  see  now  why  the  old  gentleman  should 


340  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

have  resented  this  marriage,  if  Captain  Elyot's  wife  was 
so  lovely,"  persisted  the  first  speaker. 

But  Miss  Bunce  held  back  the  one  item  in  the  sur- 
reptitiously-read letter  which  explained  this.  Mrs.  Akers 
might  know,  even  though  she  had  not  been  on  good 
terms  with  her  uncle  before  his  death.  Since  she  did 
not  choose  to  speak,  the  housekeeper  was  wise  enough 
to  keep  silence. 

Mary  Akers  was  moving  about  the  room,  filled  with 
reminiscences  recalled  by  every  object  here.  She  had 
entered  the  house  but  seldom  since  her  marriage,  and  then 
with  a  strange  formality.  She  paused  a  moment  before 
her  cousin  Robert's  miniature,  with  a  vivid  recollection 
of  that  other  morning,  so  long  ago,  when  her  uncle  had 
made  known  his  wishes  to  her.  All  this  might  have 
been  hers,  — not  the  house  alone,  with  its  handsome  old 
furniture,  and  wealth  of  bric-d-brac,  collected  from  many 
a  land  (for  old  Jeremy  had  spent  many  years  of  his 
later  life  in  wandering  over  the  seas),  but  all  this  money 
over  which  her  friends  were  gossiping  idly  now,  wonder- 
ing at  the  strange  fate  or  providence  which  had  dropped 
it  at  last  into  the  hands  from  which  the  old  man  would 
have  withheld  it.  It  might  all  have  been  hers,  not 
alone  if  she  had  married  her  cousin  Robert,  but  if  she 
had  consented  at  the  last  to  stand  to  Uncle  Jeremy  in 
Captain  Elyot's  place.  But  she  could  not  do  that. 
And  now  justice  had  been  done  at  last,  without  any 
human  agency  as  it  seemed.  Her  cousin  had  come  into 
his  rights ;  for  it  was  right  that  he  should  have  this 
money,  after  being  made  to  believe  for  years  that  it  was 
to  be  his.  And  she  rejoiced  in  it.  She  would  like  to 
write  to  her  cousin  Robert,  and  tell  him  of  her  gladness 
(a  happy  wife,  she  could  do  so  now  without  fear  of 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  341 

being  misunderstood) ;  but  she  did  not  know  his  ad- 
dress. In  what  foreign  land  he  wandered,  or  in  what 
strange  city  he  had  taken  up  his  residence,  she  had 
never  learned.  She  had  not  thought  to  put  the  ques- 
tion to  Mr.  Simpkins  when  he  was  here.  She  would 
stop  at  his  office  in  town  some  day,  and  ask  for  this 
address. 

The  announcement  of  the  death  of  her  cousin  Rob- 
ert's wife  had  put  all  other  thoughts  out  of  her  mind 
for  the  time.  So  she  was  dead,  —  this  girl  for  whom  he 
had  hazarded  and  almost  lost  every  thing.  No  wonder 
he  had  taken  it  to  heart,  as  Bunce  had  said.  He  must 
have  loved  her  dearly  to  have  risked  so  much  for  the 
happiness  of  possessing  her.  Mrs.  Akers  had  never 
credited  the  various  rumors  in  regard  to  this  marriage. 
But  few  of  them  had  reached  her,  since  she  was  within 
the  sacred  pale  of  the  family.  She  had  heard  enough, 
however,  to  realize  their  absurdity.  Other  people  be- 
lieved that  the  old  man  could  not  have  turned  his 
nephew  away  without  good  reason,  which  they  proceeded 
to  invent.  But  she  had  a  key  of  her  own  to  her  uncle's 
anger.  People  said  that  the  old  man  waited  to  find  an 
heir  to  his  property ;  but  she  hoped  it  was  not  so.  She 
could  not  but  hope  that  he  had  relented  at  the  last, 
though  too  proud  to  acknowledge  it  perhaps ;  and  this 
she  should  tell  her  cousin  Robert  when  she  wrote.  It 
might  take  the  fire  from  the  gold  dropped  into  his 
hand. 

She  did  not  realize  till  now  how  a  dream  had  been 
slowly  gathering  in  her  imagination,  of  the  time  when 
he  would  come  here  to  live.  She  had  grown  up  without 
sisters ;  but  might  not  cousin  Robert's  wife  take  the  place 
of  one  to  her  ?  Mrs.  Akers  had  known  something  of 


342  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

the  contents  of  the  letter  which  the  young  husband 
wrote  with  such  fearless  pride.  Uncle  Jeremy,  in  writ- 
ing to  his  niece  of  this  marriage,  had  quoted  Captain 
Robert's  words  in  scorn ;  but  she  had  more  than  half 
believed  them,  and  felt  a  strange  pity  now  for  this  girl 
who  had  brought  such  brief  joy  to  her  husband.  As 
she  wandered  at  will  through  the  familiar  rooms  of  the 
old  house,  she  found  herself  crying,  almost  before  she 
knew  it.  Uncle  Jeremy  had  been  very  kind  to  her  at 
one  tune.  She  remembered  it  now,  sitting  in  his  chair 
before  the  empty,  blackened  fireplace ;  and  yet  her 
tears  were  less  for  him  than  for  this  girl  whom  she  had 
never  seen. 


HIS  DTHEEITANCE.  343 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

A  STRANGE  FAMILY. 

~TT  was  one  day  early  in  the  summer  that  the  Brock 
-L  house  was  found  to  be  inhabited  again.  A  long,  fierce 
storm  —  "  the  May  storm"  —  had  raged  for  days,  com- 
pelling the  ladies  upon  the  square  to  keep  within  doors , 
and  it  was  during  this  time  that  the  family  must  have 
arrived. 

Summer  burst  suddenly  upon  the  town  with  the 
breaking  away  of  the  clouds.  The  turf  behind  the 
high  wooden  wall  of  the  Brock  house  turned  a  vivid 
green,  the  leaves  upon  the  horse-chestnuts  in  the  street 
unfolded  at  the  first  touch  of  the  sun's  rays.  Mrs. 
Mincer,  coming  slowly  along  the  High  Street,  threw 
back  her  veil  to  mark  these  changes,  surprised  to  see 
that  even  the  early  rose  over  the  door  had  put  out  its 
leaves  since  the  rain.  She  sighed  to  reflect  that  there 
was  no  one  here  to  rejoice  over  the  coming  of  summer. 
And  then  she  noticed,  for  the  first  time,  that  the  blinds 
of  the  windows  looking  upon  the  garden  were  open. 
Could  Miss  Bunce  have  forgotten  to  close  them  the  day 
when  she  had  gone  over  the  house  ?  Or  it  might  be  that 
the  late  high  winds  had  unloosed  the  worn  fastenings. 
Mrs.  Mincer  was  a  care-taking  little  woman,  and  was 


£44  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

hesitating  over  the  propriety  of  stepping  within  the 
gate,  should  she  find  it  unlocked,  and  closing  them  her- 
self, when,  to  her  utter  bewilderment,  she  met  the  gaze 
of  a  pair  of  soft  brown  eyes  directed  to  her  from  one  of 
these  unscreened  windows.  She  had  only  time  to  ob- 
serve that  they  were  set  in  a  pale  young  face,  and  that 
the  figure  to  which  both  belonged  was  draped  in  black, 
when  the  vision  disappeared. 

Mrs.  Mincer  was  startled.  There  was  something 
ghostly  in  the  apparition.  She  found  herself  quaking 
and  staring,  broad  daylight  though  it  was.  What  did 
it  mean  ?  Then  a  very  natural  and  simple  solution  of 
the  mystery  suggested  itself.  The  house  had  been  ad- 
vertised to  let  for  some  weeks.  Retracing  her  steps, 
she  saw  that  the  placard  had  been  removed  from  the 
front-window.  Some  one  had  taken  it  at  last. 

A  few  steps  farther  on  she  met  Mr.  Simpkins.  She 
hesitated,  but  finally  bowed  with  the  timid  air  with 
which  she  addressed  all  individuals  of  that  sex,  oue  of 
whom  she  had  mourned  for  fifteen  years.  She  drew  her 
veil  more  closely,  but  half  checked  her  steps. 

"  Mrs.  Mincer  ?  "     Mr.  Simpkins  paused  politely. 

"  The  Brock  house  seems  to  have  tenants.  I  thought 
I  would  ask  —  they  might  be  strangers  in  town  —  it 
would  perhaps  be  a  kindness  "  — 

"  Yes,  yes,  to  be  sure.  I  believe  they  know  no  one. 
Mrs.  Drake  told  me,  I  think,  that  they  had  no  acquaint- 
ances here." 

"  And  Mr.  Drake  ?  "  Mrs.  Mincer  said  inquiringly. 
It  was  as  well  to  know  something  of  this  family. 

"  There  is  no  Mr.  Drake.     Mrs.  Drake  is  a  widow." 

Mrs.  Mincer  was  so  much  moved  by  this  announce- 
ment, that  Mr.  Simpkins  was  embarrassed.  He  re- 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  345 

preached  himself  inwardly  for  the  abrupt  manner  with 
which  he  had  imparted  this  intelligence. 

"  With  children  ?  "  came  in  an  almost  inaudible  voice 
from  behind  the  pall  draping  the  widow. 

"There  are  two  daughters,"  Mr.  Simpkins  replied 
cheerfully,  glad  of  a  diversion,  —  "  the  elder,  a  young 
lady  in  rather  delicate  health,  I  should  say ;  the  younger, 
a  mere  child.  You  were  thinking  of  calling?  Very 
considerate  in  you,  as  they  are  undoubtedly  strangers 
in  this  vicinity.  Mrs.  Drake  seems  to  be  a  woman  of 
peculiarities,  but  of  means,  unquestionably  of  means 
(she  has  consulted  me  in  regard  to  some  important 
investments)  ;  and  the  daughters  —  the  elder,  at  least  — 
might  prove  a  desirable  acquisition  to  your  delightful 
society  here.  I  should  say,  call  certainly."  And  Mr. 
Simpkins  bowed  and  passed  on,  letting  himself  in  at  the 
gate  of  the  Brock  house. 

Mrs.  Mincer  had  forgotten  to  ask  from  what  place 
the  family  had  removed,  as  well  as  why  they  had  chosen 
to  take  up  their  residence  in  this  town,  neither  hand- 
some nor  well  situated,  it  must  be  owned.  But  all  this 
would  be  explained  in  time.  Mrs.  Drake  herself  would 
probably  offer  some  information  as  to  her  antecedents 
and  previous  circumstances  when  her  neighbors  called 
upon  her, — for  Mrs.  Mincer  had  already  decided  that 
everybody  would  call  upon  the  new-comers.  For  her- 
self, she  should  only  wait  for  a  suitable  time  to  pass. 
There  was  a  similarity  of  condition  between  this  woman 
and  herself  which  could  not  fail  to  create  a  bond  of 
sympathy. 

She  carried  the  small  scrap  of  information  gained 
from  Mr.  Simpkins  to  her  friends  around  the  square, 
each  one  of  whom  evinced  a  willingness  to  show  some 


346  HIS   INHEKITANCE. 

attention  to  these  strangers.  In  the  mean  time  a  most 
natural  curiosity  was  excited.  Who  were  these  people  ? 
and  where  had  they  come  from  ?  No  one  knew,  unless 
it  might  be  Mr.  Simpkins,  and  he  was  quite  out  of  the 
reach  of  their  questions,  his  residence  and  place  of  busi- 
ness being  in  the  adjoining  city.  Nor  had  he  been  seen 
upon  the  square  since  the  day  when  Mrs.  Mincer  met 
him  so  opportunely.  Even  the  ordinary  judgment  in- 
stinctively bestowed  upon  strangers  was  impossible  here, 
since  no  one  except  Mrs.  Mincer  had  so  much  as  caught 
a  passing  glimpse  of  any  one  of  these  people  during  the 
fortnight  in  which  they  were  considerately  left  to  them- 
selves. It  was  certainly  a  most  quiet  family. 

After  a  period  of  waiting  sufficiently  long  for  the 
strangers  to  become  settled  in  their  new  home,  the 
ladies  in  the  neighborhood  began  to  show  their  good- 
will ;  and,  before  a  week  had  passed,  a  flood  of  visitors 
poured  in  upon  the  Drakes.  They  came  away  surprised, 
and  more  than  one  of  them  indignant,  having  been 
coldly  received  by  the  widow,  who  had  been  impenetra- 
ble as  to  her  past,  as  well  as  rudely  indifferent  to  the 
friendly  advances  of  her  new  neighbors.  She  was  vari- 
ously described  by  them,  but  always  in  terms  of  amazed 
derision. 

"Really,  what  did  you  think  of  her?"  asked  Mrs. 
Mincer  of  Mrs.  Stryker,  —  Mrs.  Colonel  Stryker,  who 
led  the  society  of  the  town.  "  She  seems  to  be  not 
quite  —  that  is,  not  thoroughly  "  —  an  expressive  shake 
of  the  head  finished  the  description. 

It  was  Saturday  evening,  and  a  small  party  of  ladies 
had  gathered  in  Mrs.  Stryker's  drawing-room.  The 
curtains  separating  it  from  the  tea-room,  which  they 
had  just  left,  were  drawn ;  the  long  French  windows 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  347 

opening  upon  the  balcony  overhanging  the  street  had 
been  thrown  wide  open  to  admit  the  breeze  which  set 
the  grass  to  quivering  upon  the  monument  mound  over 
the  way,  and  sent  little  puffs  of  white  dust  dancing 
down  the  street.  Chairs  and  sofas  were  drawn  up  here  ; 
and  a  peace  toward  all  the  world,  with  a  desire  to  mildly 
criticise  its  weaknesses,  had  fallen  upon  the  company. 
It  was  then  Mrs.  Mincer  spoke,  bringing  up  the  subject 
which  had  already  been  touched  upon  at  the  tea-table. 

"  We  shall  see,"  Mrs.  Stryker  replied,  with  an  equally 
mysterious  air.  "  I  have  hardly  made  up  my  mind. 
They  are  certainly  not  what  we  had  reason  to  expect. 
Still  I  do  not  regret  having  called.  It  is  better  to  be 
disappointed,  or  even  imposed  upon  occasionally,  than 
to  neglect  strangers  who  might  repay  our  civility  by 
appreciation,  if  nothing  more.  But  I  am  surprised  that 
Captain  Elyot  should  have  let  the  house  to  these  peo- 
ple. He  might  have  considered  his  old  friends,  even 
if  he  were  indifferent  as  to  who  should  occupy  it." 

"  You  forget,  Captain  Robert  had  nothing  to  do  with 
it,"  ventured  some  one.  "  It  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
agent." 

"  And  he  urged  me  to  call,"  said  Mrs.  Mincer,  with 
almost  a  shudder.  She  had  found  no  kindred  spirit  in 
Mrs.  Drake. 

"  But  he  told  you  at  the  time  that  she  was  a  woman 
of  peculiarities?" 

"  Peculiarities  indeed ! "  laughed  another.  "  But  did 
you  notice  the  changes  in  the  house  ?  Some  very  hand- 
some furniture  —  for  the  drawing-room,  I  fancy  —  was 
being  carried  in  as  we  came  away." 

"Somewhat  after  the  Queen  of  Sheba  style,  was  it 
not?"  amended  Miss  Gore,  whose  elegance  was  of  the 
severe  type. 


348  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

"  But  Miss  Drake  is  extremely  pretty,"  broke  in  Amy 
Stryker,  meeting  this  tide  of  criticism  with  the  assur- 
ance of  one  whose  word  would  carry  weight.  "  Did 
you  not  think  so,  mamma?  Or  she  would  be  if  she 
were  not  so  frightfully  pale.  And  I  am  sure  nothing 
can  be  said  against  her  manner." 

"I  confess  I  scarcely  noticed  her,"  Mrs.  Stryker 
replied,  "  except  to  observe  that  she  looked  ill.  I  am 
glad  if  you  found  any  thing  to  admire,  Amy.  Though 
her  manner,  which  seems  to  have  impressed  you,  could 
hardly  have  been  an  inheritance  from  her  mother,  who 
was  extremely  ungracious,  and  appeared  incapable  of 
uttering  an  intelligible  word.  I  tried  her  upon  various 
subjects ;  and  whether  she  was  obtuse  or  sullen  I  could 
not  determine.  It  seemed  almost  as  though  she  con- 
sidered our  visit  an  intrusion.  We  were  not  asked 
to  repeat  it,  which  I  should  not  think  of  doing  under 
any  circumstances." 

"  You  have  aroused  my  curiosity,"  said  Mrs.  Akers, 
stepping  in  from  the  balcony,  where  she  had  overheard 
this  conversation.  "I  shall  certainly  call  now.  I 
fancied  from  all  accounts  that  these  people  were  simply 
common  and  ill-bred ;  but  this  savors  of  a  mystery,  — 
their  utter  seclusion  (for  they  appear  to  receive  no  one 
from  abroad),  their  evident  desire  to  be  left  to  them- 
selves, a  pretty  daughter  in  delicate  health  "  — 

"  I  fear  you  will  only  be  disappointed,  my  dear," 
said  Miss  Gore,  making  a  place  for  her  friend  upon  the 
sofa  beside  herself.  "The  widow  is  only  common 
and  ill-bred,  and  the  daughter  scarcely  pretty,  I  think. 
The  only  mystery,  to  my  mind,  is  that  which  always 
attends  the  sight  of  ignorance  in  high  places;  for 
Mrs.  Drake  arrays  herself  gorgeously  (if  widow's  weeds 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  349 

can  bear  such  a  description),  and  the  house  is  being 
made  hideously  fine." 

"  And  you  think  "  — 

"  That  they  are  only  vulgar  rich  people,  with  whom 
we  have  nothing  in  common.  It  was  a  mistake  from 
the  beginning ;  but  the  best  way  to  rectify  a  mistake  is 
not  to  repeat  it.  And,  by  the  way,  did  I  see  you  at  the 
matinSe  yesterday  ?  "  The  subject  was  changed.  The 
conversation  turned  into  another  channel. 

But  Mrs.  Akers  did  not  forget  it.  Her  curiosity  was 
thoroughly  aroused,  her  anger  nearly  awakened,  that 
people  of  this  order  should  desecrate  and  make  over 
the  home  which  had  been  so  pleasant  to  her  at  one 
time.  How  could  her  cousin  Robert  permit  it?  Or 
was  the  agent  acting  beyond  orders?  She  determined 
to  go  and  see  for  herself.  Some  vague  idea  of  remon- 
strating with  Mr.  Simpkins,  or  even  of  addressing  a 
letter  to  Captain  Elyot,  crossed  her  mind. 

Accordingly  one  afternoon,  not  many  days  after  this 
conversation,  she  found  herself  lifting  the  latch  of  the 
gate,  and  following  the  familiar  path  to  the  door  of  the 
Brock  house.  The  house  might  be  transformed  within ; 
but  outwardly  there  was  no  change,  she  could  see,  as 
she  stood  a  moment  waiting  for  the  summons  upon  the 
old-fashioned  knocker  to  be  answered. 

An  untidy  servant-girl  tardily  respond  to  her  knock, 
and,  after  a  moment  of  hesitation,  —  it  almost  seemed 
of  doubt  as  to  admitting  her,  —  ushered  the  visitor  into 
the  parlor.  As  the  door  swung  open,  a  picture  of  the 
well-known  room  rose  like  reality  before  Mary  Akers's 
mind,  —  the  dull  old  room,  lying  always  in  a  dim  half- 
light,  its  tone  made  sombre  by  time,  full  of  queer  old  china 
jars,  and  odd,  irregular  cabinets  in  shining  lacquer-work, 


350  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

with  a  picture  or  two,  dim  enough  to  be  originals  and 
glowing  with  the  unquenchable  light  of  genius,  within 
the  dead  gilt  frames;  the  satin  fire-screens  worked  in 
tent-stitch,  the  colors  as  faint  as  the  memory  of  the 
woman  who  wrought  them ;  the  odd  diamond-shaped 
mirror  on  the  mantel,  with  its  frame  of  Venetian  glass, 
which  gleamed  like  an  opal  when  zigzag  rays  of  light 
crept  through  the  shutters  and  struck  upon  it.  She 
saw  it  all.  Then  she  stepped  over  the  threshold  into 
a  room  gaudy  with  bold-faced  colors,  crowded  with  use- 
less furniture,  crazy  with  ill-assorted  bric-d-brac,  and 
staring  at  itself  in  showy  mirrors.  She  looked  about 
her  in  bewilderment.  She  could  hardly  believe  the 
place  to  be  the  same.  But  the  girl  was  still  waiting ; 
and  she  remembered  that  she  had  yet  to  send  her  name 
to  the  owner  of  all  this  magnificence.  She  almost 
repented  having  come  here,  as  she  dismissed  the  servant 
with  her  card,  while  she  searched  about  for  the  least 
gaudy  among  the  gilded  and  beflowered  chairs  in  which 
to  await  her  return. 

The  servant  had  but  partially  closed  the  door  after 
her.  What  was  Mrs.  Akers's  surprise  to  hear,  all  at 
once,  voices  as  if  in  alternate  rebuke  and  deprecation ! 
One  was  that  of  the  slatternly  maid,  who  seemed  to 
have  merited  an  angry  reproof.  For  what  ?  All  that 
her  friends  had  said  of  the  ungracious  reception  they 
had  met  here  rushed  upon  Mrs.  Akers's  memory.  But 
the  cessation  of  the  voices,  and  a  sudden  swift  rustle  of 
stiff  drapery,  announced  an  approach.  It  was  too  late 
to  retreat  now,  as  for  an  instant  she  had  been  tempted 
to  do  in  a  spasm  of  ridiculous  and  inexplicable  alarm. 

She  half  rose  from  her  seat,  her  heart  quickening  its 
beating,  to  meet  this  vulgar,  pretentious  woman,  who 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  351 

had  not  even  the  grace  of  ordinary  propriety ;  but  she 
was  surprised  out  of  all  preconceived  judgment,  and 
almost  out  of  her  forced  self-possession,  when  Mrs. 
Drake  entered  the  room.  The  widow  was  tall,  with  the 
figure  described  as  "commanding."  Her  face,  which 
must  have  been  handsome  once,  was  broad  at  the  fore- 
head, and  strong  in  the  lower  jaw,  indicating  both 
power  and  daring.  No  petty  vulgarity  here.  And  yet, 
with  these  grand  characteristics  in  countenance  and 
bearing,  there  was  something  indescribable,  which  gave 
them  the  lie.  Was  it  the  slight  stoop  into  which  the 
shoulders  fell  after  a  moment  ?  the  covert  glance  from 
the  long,  half-shut  eyes  smouldering  and  burning,  by 
turns,  behind  the  lids  ?  Mrs.  Akers  could  not  tell ;  but, 
after  the  first  glance  of  surprised  admiration,  she  was 
conscious  of  a  feeling  of  distrust.  She  could  but  notice 
the  incongruity,  too,  between  the  mourning-dress,  showy 
and  expensive,  even  to  the  widow's  cap  covering  the 
dead-white  hair,  and  the  coarse,  rough  skin,  which  could 
have  known  no  early  care.  Nor  could  the  lisse  frills  at 
the  wrists  conceal  or  soften  the  hands,  roughened  and 
misshapen,  as  by  hard  work.  The  verdict  of  her  friends 
had  been  just  in  one  particular,  —  Mrs.  Drake  was  no 
"lady." 

She  was  like  a  story  made  in  one  language,  and  re- 
peated awkwardly  in  another.  The  woman  was  evident- 
ly out  of  accord  with  her  present  surroundings;  but 
there  was  nothing  flaunting  or  pretentious  in  her  bear- 
ing or  her  speech :  on  the  contrary,  she  seemed,  at  times, 
rigid  with  a  shyness  too  proud  to  show  itself.  Ill  at 
ease  she  certainly  was;  but  "common"  or  "vulgar" 
she  could  never  be  called. 

But  all  these  observations  were  not  made  at  the  first 


352  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

embarrassing  moment,  for  Mary  Akers  was  hardly  more 
at  ease  than  her  hostess.  Some  ordinary  words  of 
greeting,  oddly  formal  on  the  part  of  the  widow,  passed 
between  them,  when  the  visitor  became  aware  that  her 
daughters  had  quietly  followed  Mrs.  Drake's  rather 
startling  entrance,  so  quietly  as  to  be  unnoticed  for  a 
moment ;  the  younger,  a  mere  child,  bashfully  clinging 
to  her  sister's  gown. 

"And  this  is  your  daughter?"  Mrs.  Akers  said  cor- 
dially, rising  from  her  seat. 

An  expression  of  love,  almost  like  pain,  swept  across 
the  mother's  face.  For  one  brief  moment  she  forgot 
herself. 

"Yes,  that's  Em'ly,"  she  said  simply,  as  a  slight, 
languid  figure,  dressed  in  black,  crossed  the  floor. 
Amy  Stryker  was  right:  if  the  outline  of  the  sweet, 
listless  face  had  been  fuller,  and  its  tint  less  pale,  the 
girl  would  have  been  undeniably  pretty.  Indeed,  she 
was  scarcely  less  than  that  now,  with  her  unconscious 
grace  of  manner,  so  unlike  the  mother's  perturbed, 
watchful  air. 

"  And  what  is  your  name,  my  pretty  dear  ?  "  address- 
ing the  little  one.  The  visitor  tried  to  free  Miss  Drake's 
gown  from  the  child's  dimpled  hands.  "  Come  and  sit 
with  me,  will  you  not  ?  See  what  I  have  to  show  you. 
—  What  is  her  name?"  she  asked,  turning  to  Mrs. 
Drake. 

A  sudden  dark  flush  covered  the  widow's  face  at  this 
simple  question.  Emily's  head  had  been  bent  over  the 
child.  She  raised  it  now  to  reply. 

'•'•Her  name  is  Remember"  she  said  in  a  strange, 
vibrating  voice. 

Why  was  it  that  the  light  words  upon  Mrs.  Akers's 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  353 

lips  were  checked  ?  Her  hand  slid  from  the  child's  arm, 
and  utter  silence  followed.  Who  were  these  people  ? 
And  was  it  her  imagination  alone  which  enveloped 
them  with  an  atmosphere  of  mystery  ? 

"And  are  you  quite  at  home  here?  Will  you  like 
our  town  ?  "  The  pause,  which  no  one  attempted  to  fill, 
was  becoming  awkward. 

44  It  does  as  well  as  another,"  ^Irs.  Drake  answered 
in  a  hard  voice.  "  They  're  much  alike,  —  just  houses 
and  streets  and  faces  one  never  saw  before.  We  may 
as  well  stop  here  a  while." 

"Then  you  do  not  intend  to  remain,  to  settle  per- 
manently." She  was  surprised  within  herself  at  her 
strange  interest  in  these  people. 

"Oh,  no,  no!"  the  widow  said,  twisting  her  hands 
restlessly. 

Emily's  reply  had  been  in  a  lower  voice. 

"  I  would  like  to  think  so,"  she  said.  And  her  listless 
face  showed  something  almost  like  interest. 

"  Emily's  not  fond  of  change,"  Mrs  Drake  said  quick- 
ly. "  She  would  have  staid  in  B " 

"Did  you  come  from  B— —  ?"  Here  was  something 
tangible  at  last.  "Then  perhaps  you  know  my  dear 
friends  the  Carruthers  ?  You  must  know  them." 

Again  the  widow's  dark  eyes  opened  with  a  flash  of 
doubt,  suspicion  —  what  was  it?  —  and  again  it  was 
Emily  who  took  up  the  question,  and  replied,  — 

"  We  were  there  but  a  few  weeks,  and  made  no  ac- 
quaintances." 

Silence  would  have  succeeded  Miss  Drake's  quiet 
reply,  but  that  Mary  Akers  made  one  other  effort. 

"  I  regret  to  hear  that  you  are  something  of  an  inva- 
lid," she  addressed  herself  to  Emily.  "The  air  here 


354  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

is  quite  unlike  that  of  B — : — :  I  trust  it  may  prove 
beneficial  to  you." 

"  Who  said  she  was  an  invalid  ?  "  the  mother  asked 
harshly.  "Speak  up,  Em'ly,  and  tell  her  they  knew 
nothing  about  it.  —  She's  been  ailing  a  while ;  the  heat 
has  worn  her  out :  but  the  sea  air'll  soon  set  her  up. 
The  doctors  said  so.  We've  tried  'em  all."  Anxiety  that 
was  like  terror,  faint  hope  yearning  for  confirmation,  all 
showed  in  the  burning  eyes  fixed  upon  the  visitor. 
They  compelled  her  to  speak. 

"I  hope  so,  I  think  so,  indeed,"  she  said  warmly; 
and  moved  to  an  unusual  expression,  drawn  strangely 
toward  this  young  girl,  she  laid  her  hand  upon  Emily's, 
resting  in  the  lap  of  her  black  gown.  Then  she  rose  up 
to  go. 

The  dining-room  door  stood  open  as  she  passed  out. 
She  was  glad  to  see  that  there  had  been  fewer  altera- 
tions here.  But  her  cousin  Robert's  miniature  was 
gone.  It  had  assuredly  hung  here  the  morning  when 
she  ran  in  to  find  Bunce  putting  the  house  in  order — 
for  these  people,  as  it  had  proved.  Involuntarily  she 
stepped  into  the  room;  then,  aware  of  the  intrusion, 
retreated  hastily  with  an  apology. 

"  The  house  is  both  familiar  and  dear  to  me,"  she 
said.  "Some  of  the  happiest  weeks  of  my  life  were 
passed  here  a  few  years  ago.  It  was  my  uncle's  house," 
she  explained,  still  lingering. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  the  widow  said  with  repressed  im- 
patience. "  Him  that's  travelling  in  foreign  parts.  The 
agent  told  us." 

"  No,  oh,  no !  That  is  my  cousin.  Mr.  Simpkins 
must  have  explained  "  — 

But  Mrs.  Drake  evinced  no  interest  in  these  family 
details :  her  hand  was  already  upon  the  door. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  355 

"I  daresay  —  I  don't  know,"  she  said  absently. 
" '  Twas  all  the  same  to  us.  The  house  was  advertised, 
and  Em'ly  wanted  to  come  ;  though  why  she  should  I 
don't  know.  It's  but  a  poor  place.  It'll  take  a  deal  of 
money  to  make  it  at  all  fine." 

"  I  like  it  best  as  it  is,"  Emily  said  timidly.  "  It 
seemed  like  coming  home.  We  have  been  in  so  many 
strange  places  "  —  she  began.  But  her  mother  interrupt- 
ed her  hastily. 

"  Sick  folks  have  their  fancies,"  she  said. 

But  Mary  Akers  took  up  her  words. 

"  And  you'll  grow  to  be  more  and  more  fond  of  it,  I 
hope,  as  your  health  comes  back,  until  you  will  never 
wish  to  go  away  again."  But  the  miniature  —  she  must 
ask  if  Bunce  had  removed  it.  "  My  cousin's  picture 
ifted  to  hang  here,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  spot  where 
she  so  well  remembered  having  seen  it  the  last  time  she 
was  here.  "  The  housekeeper,  perhaps,  has  laid  it  away." 

"  Was  it  a  faded  thing  in  soldier  clothes  ?  " 

"  It  was  not  quite  fresh,  I  am  afraid  ;  but  then  "  — 

It  was  impossible  to  resent  the  unconscious  imperti- 
nence of  the  woman :  it  was  equally  useless  to  explain 
why  the  picture  had  a  value  to  her  aside  from  the 
brightness  of  its  colors. 

"  Em'ly  took  a  fancy  to  it :  it  hangs  in  her  room.  — 
You  may  as  well  give  it  to  her,  Em'ly." 

"  No,  no !  Indeed  I  have  no  claim  to  it  at  all.  Al- 
though we  are  cousins,  we  have  never  met,"  the  visitor 
said  hurriedly,  mortified  to  see  with  how  little  interest 
her  voluntary  communications  in  regard  to  the  family 
were  received.  "  You  will  come  and  see  me  soon,  I 
hope,"  she  added  as  the  door  was  opened  for  her  to  pass 
out. 


356  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

Emily's  eyes  appealed  to  her  mother. 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am,"  Mrs.  Drake  replied  with  cold 
dignity ;  but  she  made  no  promise.  And  when  she  had 
closed  the  gate  after  her,  and  was  walking  away  from 
the  house,  it  occurred  to  Mrs.  Akers  that  she,  as  well  as 
her  neighbors,  had  not  been  asked  to  repeat  her  visit. 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  357 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE  LUNCH-PARTY. 

was  certainly  something  very  mysterious 
about  the  family.  This  was  the  universal  judg- 
ment rendered  at  last  upon  the  Drakes;  though  Mrs. 
Akers  kept  her  own  counsel  as  to  her  call,  adding  noth- 
ing by  word  or  look  to  the  general  suspicion.  She  even 
found  herself  taking  their  part,  —  the  part  of  these 
people  who  were  nothing  to  her,  and  who  (the  widow, 
at  least)  had  been  any  thing  but  civil  to  her.  She 
tried  to  understand  it.  Some  sympathetic  chord  between 
herself,  strong,  young,  and  happy,  and  this  poor  Emily 
Drake,  had  been  feebly  touched.  It  was  this  which 
made  her  screen  the  family,  so  far  as  she  could,  from 
the  arrows  of  scorn  showered  upon  them  ;  for  the  small 
community  had  been  disappointed,  not  to  say  shocked, 
and  feared  it  had  committed  a  grievous  error  in  thus 
taking  up  these  people  whose  antecedents  were  unknown. 
It  had  not  even  the  late  satisfaction  of  dropping  them 
again,  since  the  Drakes  showed  themselves  by  no  means 
anxious  to  turn  these  much-regretted  civilities  to  account. 
The  calls,  made  from  various  motives,  —  in  which  curi- 
osity had  a  large  share,  —  were  never  returned.  They 
ignored  all  invitations,  and  repelled  every  advance  to- 


358  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

ward  further  acquaintance.  They  seemed  to  desire  only 
to  be  left  to  themselves ;  and  to  this,  the  small  circle 
making  up  the  society  of  the  town  at  last  consented, 
with  a  severity  which  showed  something  of  pique. 

Mrs.  Akers  alone  would  not  give  them  up.  Poor 
Emily  Drake's  life  must  be  a  lonely  one.  It  would  be 
no  more  than  Christian  charity  to  do  what  she  could  to 
brighten  it.  The  girl  had  not  been  unresponsive :  it 
was  the  mother  who  had  watched,  checked,  and  repressed 
her.  Why  did  she  thus  act  the  part  of  a  dragon  over 
her  daughter  ?  "  She's  a  tartar,"  was  Mrs.  Akers's  men- 
tal comment,  reviewing  her  visit,  "  and  leads  the  poor 
girl  a  dreadful  life,  I  am  sure."  And,  being  both  coura- 
geous and  warm-hearted,  she  determined  to  become  as 
intimate  with  Miss  Drake  as  circumstances,  twisted  by 
her  own  hands,  would  allow. 

When  some  weeks  had  elapsed,  and  no  notice  was 
taken  of  her  visit,  she  prepared  to  repeat  it,  ostensi- 
bly to  ask  after  Miss  Drake's  health,  which  must  suffer 
from  too  close  confinement  within  doors.  She  filled  a 
small  basket  with  fruit  fresh  from  her  own  garden,  and 
tied  her  pretty  chip  hat  under  her  chin,  prepared  for  a 
most  neighborly  and  unceremonious  call.  A  great  quiet 
hung  over  the  place  as  she  pushed  the  gate  open.  The 
blinds  of  the  house  were  closed,  and  no  one  was  in  sight ; 
but,  as  she  raised  the  knocker,  she  fancied  that  the  laugh 
of  a  child  came  from  the  lower  end  of  the  garden, 
and  that  something  white  moved  in  the  shrubbery  there. 
Could  it  be  the  child  and  Emily  ?  But,  no  :  when  the 
same  untidy  maid  who  had  let  her  in  before  answered 
her  summons,  she  was  assured,  with  a  half-frightened 
glance  of  the  girl  over  her  shoulder,  that  Miss  Emily 
was  confined  to  her  room  with  a  headache.  Mrs.  Akers 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  359 

could  only  leave  her  basket,  and  come  away,  having  no 
desire  to  encounter  the  widow  again,  even  supposing 
that  Mrs.  Drake  would  have  received  her.  The  little 
empty  basket  was  left  at  the  door,  "  with  thanks,"  the 
next  day. 

"  But  who  brought  it?  " 

"  A  servant,  ma'am." 

So  Miss  Drake  had  not  taken  the  trouble  to  leave  it 
herself.  Mrs.  Akers  had  clung  to  a  frail  hope  until 
now.  And  there  was  only  this  cool,  verbal  message. 
She  would  not  persist  after  this.  She  then  and  there 
resigned  all  interest  in  the  Drakes. 

But  the  Fates  were  stronger  than  her  resolves.  She 
met  them,  mother  and  daughter,  at  their  own  gate,  less 
than  a  fortnight  after  this  rather  mortifying  visit.  As 
she  came  along  High  Street,  she  met  them  face  to  face. 
They  had  come  up  from  the  lower  town,  and,  turning 
the  corner  suddenly,  could  not  well  avoid  her. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you  out.  The  air  will  do  you 
good ;  or  perhaps  you  do  not  fancy  our  east  winds  ?  " 
Mary  Akers  made  a  bold  sweep  at  Miss  Drake,  whose 
pale  face  brightened  with  real  pleasure  at  this  encounter. 
She  even  turned,  and  walked  back  to  their  gate,  suit- 
ing her  steps  to  Emily's  slow  pace.  "  You  have  quite 
recovered  from  your  headache,  I  trust :  I  was  sorry  to 
hear  you  were  ill." 

"  It  was  very  kind  in  you  to  remember  me.  The 
fruit  was  delicious.  You  will  think  it  strange ;  but  I 
had  never  eaten  raspberries  before  in  my  life.  I  hope 
you  got  the  basket,  and  my  message,"  Emily  went  on 
shyly,  halting  between  each  sentence.  So  there  had 
been  something  more  than  these  cool  thanks,  after  all. 
"  I  wanted  to  take  them  to  you  myself;  but  I  was  not 


360  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

able,"  she  went  on.  "  I  am  often  not  well  now,"  she 
said  with  almost  childish  simplicity,  merely  stating  a 
fact,  by  no  means  asking  for  sympathy. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  stay  too  closely  within  doors.  —  She 
needs  a  little  change,"  Mrs.  Akers  said  boldly,  to  the 
widow,  who  was  standing  uneasily  by  her  own  gate  now, 
as  though  she  wished  herself  and  her  daughter  safely 
behind  it.  "I  am  sure  a  little  society  would  do  her 
good.  Let  me  take  her  home  to  lunch  with  me.  —  Are 
you  fond  of  pets  ?  "  addressing  Miss  Emily  again.  "  I 
have  quite  a  menagerie,  and  the  prettiest  pair  of  white 
mice  in  the  world,  sent  to  me  only  yesterday." 

At  the  mention  of  the  mice  the  girl  hardly  restrained 
a  shudder ;  but  a  soft  gleam  crept  over  her  face  at  the 
kindly,  heartsome  words. 

"  If  I  might,"  she  stammered,  appealing  to  her  mother, 
whose  countenance  was  perplexed  and  forbidding. 

"  And  you  too.  Of  course  I  wish  you  both  to  come." 
It  was  hardly  true.  But  she  could  not  carry  Emily  away 
alone,  she  saw  at  once,  nor  at  all,  but  for  this  unex- 
pected attack,  in  the  face  of  which  the  widow  could  not 
rally.  She  found  herself  and  her  daughter  borne  off 
before  she  knew  that  she  had  given  her  consent  to  this 
most  unwelcome  proposition. 

Once  in  her  own  house,  Mary  Akers  set  herself  to 
entertaining  her  strange  visitors.  She  brought  out  the 
white  mice,  and  a  wonderful  learned  cockatoo  for  Emily. 
Poor  Miss  Drake's  nerves  were  not  strong  enough  to 
bear  the  sight  and  the  odor  of  the  strange  little  creatures. 
Even  the  parrot's  hoarse  voice  thrilled  her  unpleasantly ; 
but  she  turned  with  real  enjoyment  to  a  large  cabinet 
of  curiosities  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  the  contents  of 
which  had  been  gathered  from  many  lands.  She  evinced 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  861 

little  interest  in  the  explanations  Mrs.  Akers  kindly 
offered;  but  it  was  enough  that  she  appeared  amused, 
and  pleased  to  turn  the  articles  over  in  her  hand,  struck 
by  the  bright  colors  or  the  strange  forms,  as  a  child 
might  be. 

It  was  not  so  easy  a  matter  to  entertain  the  mother, 
who  hardly  concealed  her  disgust  for  the  mice,  and 
looked  coldly  upon  the  parrot's  accomplishments.  She 
did  not  care  for  such  things,  —  turning  her  back  upon 
the  cabinet,  before  which  Emily  still  sat  engrossed,  — 
nor  for  any  thing  else,  her  hostess  thought  in  despair, 
after  trying  her  with  the  whole  circle  of  ordinary  topics 
of  conversation.  She  sat  in  uncomfortable  erectness 
upon  her  chair,  as  though  ready  to  fly  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity, her  long,  half-closed  eyes  taking  in  every  thing 
at  the  corners,  her  ears,  keen  as  those  of  an  animal, 
startled  at  every  sound.  If  she  had  been  a  prisoner 
longing  for  a  chance  to  escape,  she  could  not  have  been 
more  keenly  observant;  if  she  had  been  intrusted  with 
secrets  of  state,  she  could  scarcely  have  been  more 
guarded  in  speech. 

But  two  people  cannot  sit  face  to  face  in  a  drawing- 
room,  utterly  silent ;  and  Mrs.  Akers  was  still  making 
these  futile  efforts  to  establish  something  that  should  at 
least  simulate  conversation,  wishing  with  all  her  heart 
that  luncheon  would  be  announced,  when  suddenly  an 
entirely  unlooked-for  diversion  occurred.  There  came 
a  little,  startled  sound  from  the  corner  where  Emily 
was  bending  over  the  cabinet,  hardly  loud  enough  to  be 
called  a  cry ;  but  in  an  instant  the  widow  was  upon  her 
feet. 

"  Em'ly !     What  is  it,  Em'ly  ?  " 

The  girl  stood  swaying  on  the  floor,  her  hands  clasped 


HIS   INHERITANCE. 

together,  a  strange  excitement  and  pallor  upon  her  face. 
Her  mother  seized  her  in  her  arms,  hushing  her,  almost 
threatening  her,  it  seemed  to  Mary  Akers,  but  in  words 
too  low  to  be  caught.  The  parrot,  who  had  gone  to 
sleep  in  a  corner,  its  ruffled  head  under  its  wing,  roused 
by  the  excitement,  burst  out  now,  "  Ha,  ha !  Dead  and 
buried!  dead  and  buried!"  ending  with  a  diabolical 
laugh. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  jade ! "  cried  the  widow 
harshly  to  the  bird.  But  the  girl  in  her  arms  fell  back 
in  a  dead  faint. 

This  was  a  fine  condition  of  affairs  for  a  quiet  house- 
hold. The  servant-maid,  throwing  open  the  doors  from 
the  room  where  the  lunch  was  set  out,  offered  a  shrill 
scream,  instead  of  the  announcement  upon  her  lips, 
bringing  the  other  domestics  from  the  kitchen.  But 
the  widow  motioned  them  all  to  a  distance.  She  laid 
her  daughter  upon  the  floor,  sprinkling  her  face  with 
the  water  Mrs.  Akers  had  brought  after  the  Jfirst  expres- 
sion of  fright.  Silence  fell  upon  them  all :  even  the 
parrot,  over  whose  cage  a  rug  had  been  thrown,  was 
shamed  into  quiet. 

It  was  but  a  brief  fainting-fit.  While  Mrs.  Akers 
was  dismissing  the  gaping  company  of  servants  who 
still  hovered  in  the  doorway,  Emily  came  to  herself,  sat 
up,  looked  about  her  in  surprise  at  her  strange  position 
and  surroundings ;  then,  gathering  her  recollections, 
burst  into  tears,  and  hid  her  face  in  her  mother's  bosom. 

"  Now,  her  hat,  if  you  please,  and  mine,"  said  Mrs. 
Drake. 

"  But  you  are  not  going  ?  Let  me  give  her  a  glass 
of  wine.  She  will  be  quite  herself  in  a  moment;"  for 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  363 

Miss  Drake  still  sobbed  feebly.  "  These  lifeless  summer 
days  "  —  began  Mrs.  Akers,  politely  ignoring  any  other 
cause  for  this  sudden  illness.  Lunch  had  been  set  out 
with  more  care  than  usual,  to  do  honor  to  these  strange 
guests:  it  was  a  pity  that  it  should  be  for  nothing. 
Then,  too,  she  could  not  bear  to  lose  sight  at  once  of 
these  people,  who  were  only  more  mysterious,  the  more 
closely  they  were  brought  to  sight.  Assuredly  some 
explanation  would  be  offered  for  this  unusual  scene. 

"  I  don't  mind  if  you  give  her  a  glass  of  wine,"  the 
mother  said."  But  we'll  go  home,  if  you  please :  it's 
but  a  step." 

"  I'll  send  for  the  carriage,  then ;  or  at  least  call "  — 

"Nothing  at  all,  ma'am;  though  we're  obliged  to 
you  all  the  same.  She  can  walk  now.  —  Can't  you, 
Em'ly?" 

The  woman  had  forgotten  herself,  and  fallen  into  a 
servile  manner  of  speech,  which  did  not  escape  Mrs. 
Akers's  quick  ears.  "  She  has  known  nothing  of  soci- 
ety ;  she  has  been  a  servant,  or  —  or  something  of  the 
kind,"  that  young  woman  said  to  herself,  as  the  dragon 
did  indeed  put  on  her  bonnet,  and  lead  her  daughter 
away,  without  a  word  of  apology  or  regret  for  the  dis- 
appointment and  trouble  they  had  occasioned. 

When  they  had  gone,  and  she  had  taken  her  solitary 
lunch,  by  no  means  pleased  with  this  unexpected  end- 
ing to  the  morning,  Mrs.  Akers  returned  to  the  draw- 
ing-room to  remove  the  extinguisher  from  poor  Poll, 
who  was  still  in  disgrace.  As  she  passed  the  cabinet, 
her  foot  struck  some  small  object  upon  the  floor.  It 
was  only  a  diminutive  Indian  moccason,  embroidered 
with  beads,  which  had  found  a  place  among  rarer  arti- 


3»>4  HIS   TXKEP.ITANCE. 

cles  of  curiosity.  The  girl's  sleeve  had  perhaps  srwept 
it  from  the  shelf.  It  did  not  occur  to  Mrs.  Akers,  it 
never  crossed  her  mind  for  an  instant,  that  this  trifle, 
forgotten  as  soon  as  laid  down,  could  have  had  any 
thing  to  do  with  poor  Emily  Drake's  illness. 


HIS  DTHEBITAiiCE.  365 


CHAPTER  XXXn. 

A  VISITOR  AT  THE  BBOCK  HOUSE. 

SOME  time  elapsed  before  any  thing  more  was  seen 
of  the  Drakes.  A  succession  of  visitors,  with  the 
gayety  this  occasioned,  followed  immediately  upon  the 
heels  of  the  interrupted  lunch-party,  sweeping  away  all 
thought  of  the  incident  from  Mrs.  Akers's  mind.  She 
did  send  the  same  evening  to  inquire  after  Miss  Drake, 
who  was  quite  recovered,  the  servant  brought  back  word. 
And  there  all  intercourse  seemed  likely  to  end. 

It  was  several  weeks  after  this  that  she  was  driving 
home  from  the  adjoining  city,  where  she  had  been  to 
dine  with  a  party  of  friends.  The  carriage  rolled  slowly 
up  one  of  the  quiet  streets  skirting  the  park, — grand 
now  with  an  iron  railing,  concrete  walks,  and  a  soldiers' 
monument,  but  then  only  a  damp,  neglected  play- 
ground and  thoroughfare,  shaded  by  handsome  trees,  — 
when  a  slight  figure,  with  a  child  by  its  side,  came 
slowly  down  one  of  the  diagonal  paths  in  the  soft  dark- 
ness, under  the  brooding  elms.  Other  figures  passed 
swiftly  to  and  fro :  this  alone  lagged  feebly,  resolving 
itself  into  shadows  at  last,  as  the  sweeping  branches 
seemed  to  gather  it  from  sight. 

As  the  carriage  swept  around  a  curve,  it  suddenly 


366  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

stopped.  Two  trembling  hands  rested  upon  the  win- 
dow-sash ;  and  Emily  Drake's  tired  face,  a  little  flushed 
at  this  moment,  looked  in  at  the  window. 

"  You  will  think  me  overbold ;  but  indeed  I  wanted 
to  tell  you  —  to  thank  you —  What  must  you  have 
thought  that  day?"  she  began  hurriedly.  There  fol- 
lowed what  sounded  like  a  suppressed  sob ;  and  a  tear 
wet  Mrs.  Akers's  hand,  laid  over  Emily's.  Dear  me ! 
Was  she  going  to  cry  here  in  the  street  ?  or  would  she 
faint  again?  Mrs.  Akers's  thoughts  had  been  miles 
away  from  Emily  Drake  at  the  moment  of  her  appear- 
ance. She  could  hardly  gather  them  or  her  sympathies 
upon  such  sudden  demand. 

"My  dear,"  she  said  hurriedly,  with  that  practical 
forethought  so  destructive  of  sentiment,  "don't  stand 
there :  the  evenings  are  chilly,  and  the  park  is  wretch- 
edly damp.  Get  in ; "  and  she  made  a  movement  to  open 
the  carriage-door.  But  Miss  Drake  shrank  back  into 
her  shell  of  shy  reserve  at  this  proposal. 

"  We  have  not  yet  finished  our  walk,"  she  said  in  a 
different  voice,  and  withdrawing  a  step.  "I  —  I  hope 
you  will  pardon  me  for  detaining  you ;  but  it  had  been 
such  a  long  time,  and  you  came  so  close  to  us !  We 
were  just  leaving  the  park  —  I  could  not  help  motioning 
for  the  carriage  to  stop.  I  wanted  to  apologize  for  caus- 
ing you  so  much  trouble  that  day."  Her  very  embar- 
rassment multiplied  her  hurried  words. 

"  Pray  don't  speak  of  it.  I  was  only  troubled  that 
you  would  go  away  so  soon  ;  that  you  would  let  me  do 
nothing  for  you.  When  one  is  not  well  "  — 

"  But  I  was  well,  —  or  as  well  as  usual,"  Miss  Drake 
corrected  her  quickly.  "  I  am  always  weak  and  ner- 
vous now.  I  daresay  you  think  it  is  silly.  Mother 
says  I  could  overcome  it,  if  I  would  make  an  effort." 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  367 

"All  that  will  pass  away  of  itself  when  you  are 
stronger.  But  what  was  it,  my  dear  girl  ?  What  ailed 

you?" 

"  It  was  only  that  something  brought  back  the  time 
when  I  was  so  happy,"  Emily  answered  simply.  "  That 
was  very  long  ago,  and  miles  away  from  here,  in  a  place 
not  at  all  like  this,"  she  added,  glancing  at  the  straight 
row  of  handsome  houses  above  them,  already  darkening 
into  a  solid  wall  as  the  twilight  closed  in.  "  Then  a 
great  trouble  came,"  she  went  on  in  a  vibrating  voice, 
as  though  she  were  standing  at  an  immeasurable  dis- 
tance from  this  life  which  she  described,  as  one  might, 
perhaps,  in  the  next  world  review  the  past.  "  I  cannot 
forget  it."  It  was  like  the  hopeless  statement  of  a  fact. 
Then  she  burst  out  with  wild  passion,  "  Oh !  how  can  I 
forget  it  ?  " 

The  excited  tone  caught  the  ear  of  the  child.  She 
left  off  her  playing,  and  ran  to  pull  at  Emily's  gown. 

"Come,  come,"  she  lisped,  throwing  her  arms  tight 
around  Emily's  knees,  with  an  odd  little  gesture  of  pro- 
tection and  love. 

The  girl's  face  had  dropped  into  her  hands. 

"  Don't,  my  dear,  don't,"  said  Mrs.  Akers  soothingly. 
What  did  it  mean  ?  But  this  was  too  exposed  a  place 
for  a  scene.  "  You  really  must  let  me  take  you  home." 
It  was  no  time  to  ask  the  girl  to  explain  herself,  at  least 
until  she  was  safe  within  the  carriage. 

But  Emily  refused. 

"  It  would  only  alarm  mother  if  you  were  to  bring 
me  home." 

"But  you  will  come  and  see  me  very  soon,  —  to-mor- 
row?" 

"I  —  I  wish  I  might ;  I  don't  know."     The  girl  had 


368  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

dropped  her  veil,  and  taken  her  sister  by  the  hand,  pre-. 
pared  to  move  away.  "  But  I  shall  never  forget  your 
great  kindness." 

Then  she  disappeared  in  the  shadows,  creeping  out 
from  the  park.  Kindness!  It  followed  Mrs.  Akers 
like  a  reproach  as  she  drove  home.  Had  she  been  kind  ? 
She  had  been  suspicious  of  these  people,  almost  of  Emily 
herself  while  this  strange  scene  was  passing.  The  feel- 
ing of  doubt  was  gone  now.  She  was  ashamed  to 
remember  it ;  but  her  great  kindness  had  been  no  more 
than  the  sympathy  which  any  human  being  would  give 
to  another  in  trouble.  Poor  Emily  Drake  !  Her  grief 
was  doubtless  some  disappointment  of  the  affections. 
The  mother  had  interfered  perhaps.  But,  if  there  had 
been  true  love,  it  would  claim  its  own,  Mary  Akers 
prophesied  with  happy  philosophy.  And  as  Emily 
Drake  did  not  come  (she  had  hardly  expected  it  at 
the  time),  after  a  few  days  the  subject  was  overlaid 
by  others,  though  hardly  forgotten. 

The  autumn  hurried  away.  White-footed  winter  fol- 
lowed. Even  the  spring  came  round  again,  and  nothing 
more  was  known  of  the  Drakes.  They  had  not  suffi- 
ciently conformed  to  New-England  proprieties  to  attach 
themselves  to  any  one  of  the  churches  of  the  town: 
they  had  shown  themselves  in  no  congregation  of  wor- 
shippers. Each  clergyman  had  felt  it  incumbent  upon 
him  to  call ,  but  these  visits  had  been  as  coldly  received 
as  those  of  the  neighbors,  and  had  not  been  repeated. 
Even  Christian  kindness  can  scarcely  force  itself  upon 
people.  The  general  belief,  by  this  time,  had  grown  to 
be  that  the  Drakes  had  come  into  a  fortune  unexpect- 
edly, being  but  ill  prepared  for  it.  Every  one  agreed 
to  this  simple  theory,  though  speculating  a  little  upon 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  3G9 

its  margin,  with  the  exceptions  of  Mrs.  Mincer,  who 
had  no  decided  views  upon  any  subject,  and  of  Mrs. 
Akers,  who  offered  no  opinion  whatever,  and  knew  not 
what  to  believe. 

But  about  this  time,  the  last  of  the  spring  or  begin- 
ning of  summer,  there  was  a  change.  A  visitor  was 
seen  to  come  out  of  the  much  be-watched  gate,  —  a 
young  man,  who  turned  to  raise  his  hat  to  some  invisible 
form  within  as  he  closed  the  gate  after  him,  thus  hiding 
his  face  from  Mrs.  Colonel  Stryker,  who  was  passing 
upon  the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  Now,  Mrs.  Stryker 
was  no  gossip ;  but  it  would  have  been  beyond  human 
nature  in  its  present  fallen  state  to  forbear  mentioning 
this  circumstance  to  the  two  or  three  friends  who 
dropped  in  for  an  hour's  chat  after  tea  the  same  evening. 
There  had  been  wanting  in  its  darkest  moments  but 
this  one  element  to  make  the  mystery  complete.  Given, 
a  dragon,  a  young  and  pretty  girl,  —  though  upon  this 
point  there  was  a  diversity  of  opinion,  —  and,  finally,  a 
young  man.  Nothing  more  could  be  asked  for. 

"  But  there  is  no  mystery  at  all  about  it,"  said  Amy 
Stryker.  "  I  saw  you,  mamma,  from  across  the  way, 
and  met  him  full  in  the  face  as  he  left  the  house ;  and  it 
was  only  Edgar  Wyman." 

"  Only   Edgar    Wyman ! "    repeated    every    voice. 
"  What  was  he  doing  there  ?  " 

Now,  the  Wymans  were  scarcely  considered  to  belong 
to  the  "  society  "  of  the  town ;  though  Mrs.  Mincer,  Mrs. 
Wyman's  own  sister,  had  crept  into  a  tolerably  assured 
position,  partly  through  her  marriage,  and  in  a  measure 
by  reason  of  a  certain  moral  flexibility  which  made  it 
easy  for  her  to  twist  through  very  sinuous  passages,  and 
make  an  entrance  by  extremely  narrow  doors.  The 


370  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

Wymans  themselves  had  not  always  lived  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  square.  They  had  come  up  from  some  burrow  in 
the  lower  streets  of  the  town  (so  it  was  said),  though 
no  one  was  supposed  to  be  sufficiently  familiar  with  the 
locality  to  point  it  out.  They  had  made  their  fortunes 
hastily,  and  had  come  up  the  hill  to  build  a  showy  house, 
and  put  themselves  in  violent  contrast  to  it  at  once. 
As  for  Edgar  Wyman,  the  only  son,  since  the  family  had 
enjoyed  its  prosperity  (for  a  dozen  years  now),  he  had 
been  sent  to  the  best  of  schools,  where,  it  must  be  owned, 
his  acquirements  had  not  been  great.  They  had  suf- 
ficed, however,  to  obtain  for  him  an  entrance  to  one  of 
the  oldest  colleges  in  the  country,  through  which  he  had 
passed,  having  contrived  to  rub  off  and  bring  away 
very  little  knowledge,  and  still  less  of  the  good-will  of 
his  associates.  He  was  mean  to  penuriousness,  sly, 
and  a  sycophant,  receiving  a  kick  from  those  above 
him  without  a  demur,  and  passing  it  on  to  his  inferiors, 
as  he  judged  those  to  be  who  were  poorer  in  estate  than 
himself.  In  this  only  was  he  generous.  He  was  not  ill- 
looking,  aside  from  his  pretentious  swagger;  but  even 
this  circumstance,  and  in  a  community  where  young 
men  were  at  a  premium,  had  failed  to  make  ah  entrance 
for  him  into  the  best  society  of  the  town. 

"  He  always  was  "  —  began  some  one,  taking  up  the 
conversation.  Then  the  sentence,  with  its  unflattering 
accent,  was  choked  back. 

Everybody  looked  at  Mrs.  Mincer. 

"  I  do  not  understand  it  in  the  least.  What  can  it 
mean  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  it  means  nothing  at 
all,"  said  Mrs.  Akers,  "  except  that  the  poor  girl  is  at 
last  making  friends  among  us.  For  myself,  I  am  glad  to 
think  it  is  so." 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  371 

She  remembered  the  interview  at  her  carriage-win- 
dow, of  which  no  one  of  her  friends  knew  any  thing  at 
all.  And  was  Emily  Drake  forgetting  her  "  great  trou- 
ble "  ?  She  could  hardly  repress  a  momentary  contempt 
for  a  sorrow  that  could  find  consolation  and  forgetful- 
ness  in  such  an  one  as  Edgar  Wyman. 

"  It  must  have  been  he  who  came  out  at  the  gate  two 
nights  ago,  as  we  drove  by  from  town,"  said  another. 
"  It  was  certainly  the  figure  of%  a  man,  though  it  was 
entirely  too  dark  to  distinguish  his  face."  And  then, 
by  comparing  notes,  it  was  found  that  this  mysterious 
figure,  mysterious  no  longer,  had  been  seen  many  times 
of  late  slowly  passing  the  house,  or  going  in  and  out  at 
the  gate. 

Whatever  secrecy  there  might  have  been  in  these 
visits  at  first,  there  was  none  from  this  time.  Edgar 
Wyman  went  openly  and  often  to  the  Brock  house  now. 
And  whether  from  the  influence  of  his  new  associates, 
or  because  he  found  himself  all  at  once  an  object  of 
interest,  he  began  to  wear  a  fresh  air  of  importance  by 
no  means  well-fitting. 

"  It  is  her  money.  He  cannot  really  feel  any  interest 
in  that  poor,  pale  creature,"  Mrs.  Mincer  said,  with  an 
animation  which  savored  of  anger,  turning  upon  her 
own  family,  after  trying  in-  vain  to  learn  from  her 
nephew  the  occasion  of  these  frequent  visits,  or  at  least 
some  account  of  how  the  acquaintance  had  begun. 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  visit  them  ?  "  he  had  said.  "  Didn't 
you  all  run  there  when  they  first  came  to  town  ?  I'm  a 
little  late,  to  be  sure ;  but  it  was  the  tortoise,  you  know, 
who  won  the  race."  By  which  it  will  be  seen  that  the 
young  man  had  not  studied  the  classics  in  vain. 

"  But,  my  dear  Edgar,  no  one  goes  there  now,"     Mrs. 


372  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

Mincer  knew  nothing  about  tortoises  or  races,  except 
that  the  latter  were  in  very  ill  taste,  and  not  considered 
select  by  the  best  people. 

"  And  why  don't  they  go  there  now  ?  "  He  laughed 
in  a  quiet,  exasperating  manner  as  he  answered  his  own 
question,  "  Because  they  know  they're  not  wanted  ;  be- 
cause they  were  never  asked  to  come  again.  The  old 
woman  is  a  "  —  what,  Mr.  Edgar  did  not  say ;  "  but  the 
elder  daughter  is  a  confoundedly  pretty  girl,  and  I  shall 
go  there  when  I  please." 

This  conversation  Mrs.  Mincer  reported  word  for 
word  to  her  friends.  It  demonstrated  nothing,  to  be 
sure,  except  the  manly  spirit  Mr.  Edgar  Wyman  had 
developed ;  but  of  this  Mrs.  Mincer  was  rather  proud. 

"  He  said  the  old  woman  was  a  —  what  is  the  old 
woman?"  queried  she,  when  her  story  was  ended,  re- 
ferring to  the  only  mysterious  point  in  what  had  been 
an  unpleasantly  plain  statement  of  facts. 

"  She  is  a  dragon,"  Mrs.  Akers  replied  with  a  good- 
natured  laugh.  "  And  your  nephew  is  quite  right :  she 
does  not  wish  us  to  call  upon  her.  Why  shouldn't  she 
choose  her  own  friends  ?  "  Unconsciously  she  bristled 
to  the  defence  of  these  people. 

They  were  rising  from  a  social  tea-table  as  she  spoke. 

"  I  must  go,"  she  said  to  her  hostess.  "  I  have  friends 
coming  from  town :  they  may  have  arrived  already.  So 
I  must  run  off  like  a  beggar,  with  hardly  a  '  thank  you.'  " 
And  she  made  her  adieus,  and  left  her  friends  to  discuss 
Emily  Drake  and  her  new  acquaintance  at  their  leisure. 
She  was  glad  of  an  excuse  to  leave  them.  It  had  been 
upon  her  tongue  more  than  once  to  tell  the  little  she 
knew  of  the  girl.  But  she  would  not :  it  would  be  a 
betrayal  of  confidence.  And  yet  the  temptation  was 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  373 

strong.  She  turned  the  corner  of  the  square  rather 
hurriedly  from  the  impetus  of  this  resolution.  The 
soft,  early  twilight  was  slowly  gathering,  melting  the 
sharp  angle  at  the  top  of  the  granite  shaft  above  her, 
laying  deeper  shadows  upon  the  trees  about  the  mound, 
and  idealizing  the  two  figures  moving  slowly  along  the 
walk  at  a  little  distance  before  her.  A  young  man  and 
maiden  they  seemed  to  be.  There  was  a  drooping, 
listless  air  about  the  girl,  a  languor  in  her  walk  and  the 
slow  sweep  and  trail  of  her  gown,  which  could  not  be 
mistaken.  It  was  Emily  Drake ;  and  the  young  man 
could  be  no  other  than  Edgar  Wyman.  So  indeed  it 
proved,  when  the  more  hurried  step  of  the  woman  had 
brought  her  nearer  to  them.  They  had  reached  the 
end  of  the  square  by  this  time,  just  beyond  which  was 
the  Brock  house.  At  the  gate  they  separated,  the 
young  man  going  on  without  looking  back.  The  girl 
stood  for  a  moment  in  the  open  gateway.  The  vine- 
covered  trellis  over  the  house-door  behind  her  made  a 
background  of  dark  leaves,  against  which  the  slight 
figure  dressed  in  black  was  thrown  out  like  a  silhouette. 
A  figure  of  despondency  it  might  have  been ;  the  head 
drooping,  the  hands  clasped  loosely  before  her,  and 
holding  her  hat,  whose  long  black  ribbons  trailed  upon 
the  ground.  Certainly  happiness,  if  that  had  indeed 
come  to  her,  had  made  little  change  in  poor  Emily 
Drake's  appearance.  She  turned  to  go  into  the  house, 
giving  a  little  start  at  sight  of  Mrs.  Akers,  who  had 
taken  up  her  flounced  skirts  at  the  moment  to  cross 
the  dusty  street  toward  her  own  home,  upon  the  other 
side  of  the  square. 

"  Good-evening,"  the  latter  said,  with  a  cheerful  little 
nod  to  the  girl.     Two  wistful  brown  eyes  seemed  to 


374  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

follow  her  as  she  crossed  the  street,  urging  her  to  re- 
turn. "  What  does  ail  the  girl  ? "  she  said  to  herself 
impatiently.  There  was  something  almost  exasperating 
to  the  woman  of  strong  nerves  and  a  happy  nature  in 
this  moping  figure  with  its  mysterious  trouble.  She 
glanced  back  as  she  passed  the  corner.  Emily  still 
stood  in  the  gateway.  "  But  why  should  I  interfere  ?  " 
she  thought,  with  that  putting-away  of  responsibility 
in  other  people's  affairs  which  is  sometimes  as  culpable 
as  interference.  It  was  late ;  her  friends  had  arrived 
already,  perhaps ;  and  she  hastened  her  steps.  "  Why 
did  I  not  go  back  ?  "  she  asked  herself  long  afterward, 
when  it  was  too  late.- 

f  A  good  angel  had  whispered  to  her ;  but  she  would 
not  listen.  She  went  on  to  her  home,  and  met  her 
friends,  and  forgot  the  wistful  eyes,  and  the  dark,  slen- 
der figure  standing  dejectedly  in  the  gateway. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  875 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

"SHE'S  NOT  GOING  TO   BE  WORSE  I " 

IT  was  not  long  after  this  that  a  report  crept  around 
the  square  that  Emily  Drake  and  Edgar  Wyman 
were  engaged  to  be  married.  The  story  was  authenti- 
cated by  Mrs.  Mincer.  But  for  her,  it  might  have  passed 
on  and  away ;  since  there  was  absolutely  no  one,  if  we 
except  the  butcher  and  the  grocer,  who  held  any  com- 
munication with  the  Drakes.  She,  however,  declared 
it  to  be  true.  She  had  received  it  from  Edgar  Wyman 
himself.  It  was  an  official  announcement;  but  even 
she  did  not  hesitate  to  discuss  the  matter,  and,  as  Edgar 
became  more  communicative,  she  dropped  various  hints 
as  to  the  strange  ways  of  this  young  girl  whom  he  had 
won.  He  hated  a  black  gown ;  and  she  had  refused  to 
lay  by  her  mourning,  though  her  father  had  been  dead 
some  years,  four  or  five  at  least,  now.  It  came  out 
that  he  found  her  often  weeping  —  at  what  ?  She  had 
accepted  him  without  an  objection,  and  was  presuma- 
bly happy.  What  did  it  mean  ?  "  It  almost  seems  as 
though  she  had  had  another  lover,  and  lost  him,"  some 
one  said  fearfully,  for  Mrs.  Mincer  was  present  when 
this  remark  was  made.  "  Another  lover  I  "  the  listeners 
to  this  fanciful  suggestion  exclaimed  contemptuously. 


376  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

It  was  impossible  always  to  remember  Mrs.  Mincer, 
who,  poor  thing,  was  not  of  much  account  after  all,  and 
bore  no  resentment.  But  no  one  of  them  believed  that 
pale,  spiritless  Miss  Drake  could  ever  have  had  another 
lover.  Mrs.  Mincer,  having  with  many  sighs  let  fall 
these  dark  suggestions  of  happiness  not  without  alloy, 
was  obliged  to  explain  them  away  as  best  she  could. 
The  woman  had  no  firm  standing-ground  in  these  days, 
between  contempt  for  this  girl  and  a  desire  to  uphold 
her  own  family. 

But,  while  this  not  entirely  unfriendly  gossip  went  on, 
there  was  no  perceptible  change  at  the  Brock  house,  save 
that  Edgar  Wyman  went  in  and  out  with,  if  possible,  a 
more  swaggering  air  of  single  proprietorship  than  ever. 
The  family  still  kept  to  itself.  Mrs.  Wyman,  a  meek 
woman,  as  faded  in  spirit  as  in  complexion,  had,  at  Mrs. 
Mincer's  suggestion,  asked  her  son  if  she  were  expected 
to  call. 

"  You  stay  away,  if  you  don't  want  to  spoil  every 
thing,"  was  the  filial  response  of  the  young  man.  And 
no  one  of  the  family,  besides  Mr.  Edgar  himself,  had 
extended  a  hand  to  the  Drakes.  Even  Mrs.  Akers 
seemed  to  have  lost  her  slight  hold  upon  Emily,  who  was 
seldom  seen  beyond  the  gate.  But  at  one  of  the  win- 
dows overlooking  the  garden,  in  the  early  twilight,  as 
the  summer  wore  to  a  close,  Emily's  shadowy  figure 
often  appeared,  her  little  sister  leaning  over  her  shoul- 
der, or  held  tight  in  her  arms ,  or  alone,  her  face  lying 
on  her  hands,  while  she  gazed  out  and  away  in  a  reverie 
which  seemed  rather  of  memory  than  of  hope.  People 
fancied  that  her  face  grew  whiter  day  by  day,  and  shook 
their  heads  with  a  touch  of  pity  over  the  girl  who  had 
moved  them  to  little  besides  curiosity  until  now. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  377 

"  Poor  Emily  Drake !  "  they  began  to  call  her.  Poor 
Emily,  indeed,  who  might  have  been  pretty  Emily,  fresh 
and  young  and  happy  for  years  to  come,  if  only  some 
one  could  have  spoken  the  words  she  would  have  almost 
died  of  joy  to  hear ! 

The  girl  was  fading  away.  By  the  time  the  apple-trees 
in  the  garden  had  shed  their  withered  brown  leaves,  she 
had  ceased  to  leave  the  house.  She  still  sat  in  the  win- 
dow at  nightfall,  until  the  long  evenings  with  the  early 
twilight  came  on,  and  the  drawn  curtains  shut  in  the 
vision  of  the  sad  face.  It  was  weeks  before  it  became 
known  that  she  was  really  ill,  not  until  Edgar  Wyman 
began  to  show  symptoms  of  annoyance ;  for  in  this  form 
his  anxiety  displayed  itself.  Could  it  be  that  his  tri- 
umph was  to  end  here  ?  for  a  triumph  he  considered  his 
relations  with  this  family.  Had  not  others  striven,  and 
failed  ?  He  had  aimed  beyond  them  all ;  and  could  he 
lose  all  now  ?  Would  Fate  be  so  hard  upon  him  as  to 
allow  this  girl,  with  all  her  wealth,  of  which  there  was 
no  need  to  feel  a  doubt,  —  would  Fate  curse  him  by  let- 
ting her  vanish  like  a  shadow,  slipping  out  of  his  grasp, 
where  he  could  neither  follow  nor  bring  her  back? 
His  alarm  became  too  great  to  be  concealed,  and  yet 
he  was  half  ashamed  to  acknowledge  it.  Real  feeling 
of  any  kind  he  had  been  accustomed  to  put  out  of  sight 
as  soon  as  possible,  since  it  was  usually  of  a  kind  to  do 
him  no  credit.  But,  failing  in  this  now,  he  strove  to 
cover  it  up  with  weak  complainings  and  self-pity,  honest 
enough,  alternated  by  seasons  of  moroseness,  hard  to 
be  endured  by  his  own  family,  but  doubly  trying  to 
Mrs.  Mincer,  through  whom  the  kind-hearted  ladies 
upon  the  square  hastened  to  offer  any  assistance  in  their 
power.  Was  Miss  Emily's  appetite  feeble  ?  Any  little 


378  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

delicacy  —  Did  she  require  a  nurse  ?  It  was  Mrs. 
Mincer's  unpleasant  task  to  receive  her  nephew's  ungra- 
cious and  even  rude  rejection  of  all  such  aid  as  was 
proffered,  and  translate  it  into  the  language  of  polite 
society. 

Mrs.  Akers  alone  employed  no  ambassador. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  Miss  Drake  is  seriously  ill.^ 
Is  there  any  thing  that  a  neighbor  could  do  for  her  —  or 
for  the  family  ?  "  she  asked  boldly  of  Edgar  Wyman, 
stopping  him  at  the  very  gate  of  the  Brock  place  one 
morning.  Something  had  tugged  at  her  heart  of  late, 
very  like  regret  or  self-reproach.  Had  she  done  all  that 
she  might  have  done  for  this  girl  ? 

"Thanks;  nothing  at  all,"  the  young  man  replied 
stiffly.  "  She  has  every  comfort  and  attention  that  can 
be  procured."  Even  at  such  a  time  as  this,  his  true, 
boastful  self  would  come  to  the  front.  He  lifted  his 
hat,  and  would  have  passed  on ;  but  she  still  stood  in 
his  way. 

"  It  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  call.  A  friend 
from  outside  can  sometimes  suggest "  — 

"  She  is  unable  to  see  visitors."  How  he  rejoiced  to 
show  his  power  to  one  of  these  people  who  had  scorned 
to  notice  him  —  until  now ! 

"  But  you  have  consulted  a  physician,  I  trust,"  per- 
sisted Mrs.  Akers,  who  felt  her  spirit  taking  up  arms 
within  her  at  his  tone,  scarcely  removed  from  insolence. 

"  We  have  done  every  thing  necessary.  I  think  you 
may  trust  us,"  he  added  with  a  disagreeable  smile. 
"  We  do  not  consider  her  case  hopeless,  by  any  means." 
And  then  he  did  at  last  escape,  leaving  Mrs.  Akers  in  a 
most  disturbed  state  of  mind.  She  still  stood  upon  the 
sidewalk,  directly  before  the  Brock  house.  The  cur- 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  379 

tains  were  drawn  aside  from  one  of  the  upper  windows. 
Was  it  there  that  the  sick  girl  lay?  For  it  had  crept 
about,  one  hardly  knew  how,  that  Emily  Drake  had 
taken  to  her  bed.  "  I  was  so  happy  for  a  little  while !  " 
she  had  said.  "  How  can  I  forget  it  ?  "  What  was  it 
that  she  could  not  forget?  She,  Mary  Akers,  had 
decided  in  her  own  mind,  that  it  was  some  misplaced 
attachment,  some  hope  rudely  shattered,  which  time 
would  build  again.  What  if  she  had  been  mistaken, 
after  all,  and  a  real  trouble  and  grief  which  never  could 
be  set  right  had  befallen  the  girl  ?  It  was  this  possi- 
bility, inwardly  vexing  her,  which  had  stirred  up  regret, 
keen  almost  as  remorse. 

People  jostled  her  as  they  pushed  by, — men  hasten- 
ing to  their  business,  children  late  for  school :  some  of 
them  nodded  and  stared  to  see  her  standing  there.  It 
was  morning,  a  late  October  morning,  raw  and  chill.  A 
rollicking  north  wind  came  down  the  street,  whistling  to 
the  leaves,  which  were  like  crisp  red  gold:  they  danced 
about  her  feet,  and,  whirling  into  the  air,  almost  touched 
the  window  which  she  had  fancied  to  be  Emily's.  What 
if  the  girl  were  to  die  ?  She  started  with  a  sudden 
resolution.  She  would  see  Miss  Drake :  once  more,  if 
never  again,  she  would  see  her  face  to  face.  What 
was  it  that  the  girl  longed  to  tell,  the  very  burden  of 
which  was  breaking  the  poor  heart  ?  She  pushed  the 
gate  open,  and  hurried  up  the  walk  to  the  door,  a  sud- 
den terror  pressing  her,  lest  she  should  even  now  be  too 
late.  An  air  of  desolation  pervaded  the  garden.  The 
dead  leaves  lay  where  they  had  fallen :  only  the  besom 
of  the  wind  had  disturbed  them.  The  summer  ilowers 
had  died  upon  their  stems,  or  scattered  their  seeds  at 
will,  their  stalks  bent  and  broken  by  storms.  Even  the 


380  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

rosebush  over  the  door,  once  so  carefully  trained,  had 
fallen  away  from  its  fastenings,  and  flapped  dismally 
against  the  house.  The  knocker  gave  out  a  hollow 
sound  at  the  touch  of  her  hand,  as  though  it  could 
arouse  only  echoes.  She  was  hesitating,  unwilling  to 
strike  it  again,  and  jet  resolved  not  to  quit  the  door 
until  it  was  opened  to  her,  when  it  was  cautiously 
slipped  ajar  with  a  faint  echo,  and  the  face  of  the  maid 
she  had  seen  before  appeared  in  the  opening.  It  was 
a  dull  countenance;  but  the  last  trace  of  intelligence 
was  swept  from  it  at  the  sight  of  this  visitor.  She  still 
held  the  door  ajar,  to  be  sure,  but  seemingly  from  in- 
ability to  close  it  through  the  sudden  disturbance  of  her 
faculties. 

"  I  want  to  see  Miss  Emily,  my  good  girl.  Is  she  very 
ill?" 

Before  the  servant  could  reply,  a  voice  sounded  from 
above  and  behind  her,  from  the  top  of  the  dim  broad 
stairway,  it  would  seem.  And,  if  it  had  come  from 
still  more  aerial  heights,  it  could  hardly  have  brought 
greater  terror  to  the  poor  maid,  who  shrank  back,  let- 
ting the  door  slide  open.  It  was  a  woman's  voice, 
harsh,  though  repressed. 

"What  is  it,  Nora?  Send  them  away.  We  don't 
want  any  thing." 

"  It's  a  lady,  ma'am,  as  would  like  to  see  Miss 
Em'ly." 

Then  the  visitor  stepped  into  the  hall. 

A  dark  figure  came  hastily  down  the  stairs  hi  a  kind 
of  rush,  as  the  maid  closed  the  door,  standing  upon  the 
last,  as  though  to  bar  the  way.  It  was  Mrs.  Drake 
"  the  dragon,"  but  so  changed,  that,  for  a  moment,  Mrs. 
Akers  almost  doubted  if  it  were  she.  The  deep  red  of 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  381 

her  face  had  changed  to  a  sickly  color,  almost  livid  in 
the  dim  light  of  the  closely-shaded  hall.  Her  eyes 
seemed  to  have  burned  their  way  into  her  head,  where 
they  smouldered  now  like  exhausted  fires.  Her  dress 
was  untidy  in  its  arrangement,  the  shawl  thrown  over 
her  shoulders  awry  ;  and  she  stood,  without  a  word  of 
greeting,  as  though  waiting  for  her  visitor  to  declare 
the  object  of  her  coming.  There  are  certain  conven- 
tionalities of  speech  which  become  so  much  a  part  of 
ourselves  as  not  to  be,  even  under  the  strongest  excite- 
ment, entirely  thrust  aside  or  forgotten.  But  the  words 
which  come  of  themselves  fled  from  Mrs.  Akers's  tongue 
at  this  moment,  and  she  stood  utterly  speechless  and 
confused  before  the  strange  figure. 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  did  you  come  for  ?  We  have 
sickness  in  the  house,  and  cannot  see  visitors.  —  Nora, 
why  did  you  let  her  in  ?  " 

It  was  so  far  beyond  rudeness,  the  refined  rudeness 
of  society,  that  the  very  shock  of  surprise  restored  Mrs. 
Akers's  mental  equilibrium. 

"  I  have  not  come  as  an  ordinary  visitor,"  she  said 
quietly;  "but  knowing  your  daughter  was  ill —  Do 
let  me  see  her !  "  she  burst  out  warmly.  "  Only  for  a 
moment.  I  will  be  very  careful ;  I "  — 

But  the  woman  upon  the  stairs  threw  out  her  arms, 
and  grasped  the  heavy  rail  upon  either  side. 

"  You  can't  see  her :  no  one  can  see  her.  You  have 
only  come  to  find  out "  —  Then  she  paused,  an  expres- 
sion of  terror  upon  her  face,  and  added,  with  an  evident 
striving  after  self-control,  "  It's  very  polite  in  you,  I'm 
sure ;  but  nobody  can  do  any  thing." 

"  But  if  I  could  ?    If  she  should  be  worse  ?  " 

"  She's  not  going  to  be  worse ! "    And  the  fierceness 


382  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

came  back  to  the  mother's  tone  and  manner.  "My 
Em'ly's  going  to  be  well.  She's  better  now,  and  happy, 
very  happy."  She  threw  her  head  back,  and  regarded 
her  visitor  defiantly. 

"  I  am  glad  to  think  so,  I  am,  indeed,"  Mrs.  Akers 
replied  rather  faintly,  moving  toward  the  door.  Was 
the  woman  insane?  It  almost  seemed  so;  and  a 
thought  of  poor  Emily  in  such  hands  had  very  nearly 
roused  her  to  the  point  of  pushing  by  the  figure,  with 
its  rigid,  outstretched  arms,  and  seeing  for  herself  how 
the  poor  girl  fared.  But,  strangely  as  the  woman  ap- 
peared, she  was  still  Emily's  mother.  And  what  but 
anxiety  and  watching  could  have  changed  her  like  this  ? 
Certainly  the  girl  would  not  suffer  under  the  jealous 
care  which  seemed  more  like  the  fierce  love  of  an  ani- 
mal than  the  affection  of  a  mother  for  her  child.  There 
was  nothing  to  do  but  to  come  away. 

"  At  least,  you  will  tell  Miss  Emily  I  called  ?  " 

"  She  doesn't  care  about  visitors,"  the  woman  replied 
doggedly. 

"  How  can  you  be  rude  to  me,  when  I  came  out  of 
real  interest  in  Emily  ?  " 

A  whirl  of  indignant  feeling  had  brought  Mrs.  Akers 
back  from  the  door,  and  compelled  her  to  speak. 

"  She's  mine,  mine !  "  the  mother  burst  out  with  wild 
passion.  The  rigid  figure  gave  way  at  last.  She 
swayed  back  and  forth,  wringing  her  hands  in  a  spasm 
of  grief  (for  what  else  could  it  be  ?)  dreadful  to  look 
at.  "  Nobody  loves  her  but  me.  O  Em'ly  Em'ly  !  — 
Go  away ! "  —  for  the  visitor,  remorseful  over  the  storm 
she  had  called  down,  drew  near,  and  laid  her  hand  softly 
upon  the  woman's  arm.  "  Go  away ! "  she  said,  turning 
upon  her.  "  Why  do  you  come  here  to  spy  upon  us  ? 
I'd  do  it  again,  I  tell  you." 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  383 

Some  one  pulled  at  Mrs.  Akers's  shawl.  It  was  the 
frightened  servant-maid  who  had  left  her  in,  and  who, 
from  an  angle  in  the  wall,  had  been  trying  to  motion 
her  toward  the  door.  Yes,  it  was  better  for  her  to  go. 
This  could  be  only  the  raving  of  a  lunatic.  But  she 
had  gained  nothing,  she  thought  regretfully,  as  she 
walked  quickly  away  from  the  house. 


384  HIS   INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

"DEAR   CHILD,   YOU  FORGOT   TO  TELL  HIS  NAME." 


come  to  us  in  New  England  oertain  days 
in  the  late  autumn,  like  a  recollection  of  past 
summers  ;  as  though  Nature,  hoarding  her  treasures,  or 
disbursing  them  with  a  miserly  hand,  had,  at  the  last, 
repented,  and  poured  out  lavishly  of  her  sweetest  and 
best,  —  days  softer  than  roseful  June,  which  have  so 
little  to  do  with  the  outer  world,  that  they  cannot  be 
spoken  of  after  the  manner  of  an  almanac,  but  must  be 
reckoned  among  the  tender  emotions.  If  it  were  not 
for  the  haze  which  hangs  over  the  hills,  for  the  still  air, 
softer  than  samite,  one  would  know  nothing  of  this  sea- 
son through  the  senses.  The  earth  is  bare  and  brown  ; 
the  blossoms  have  turned  to  fruitage,  and  dropped  from 
the  trees.  The  heart  alone,  at  this  late  moment, 
awakens  to  bloom  again.  All  past  summers  and  de- 
lights give  of  their  fulness  to  this  time  ;  so  that  it 
might  be  called  remembrance,  or,  possibly,  regret  for 
some  of  us. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  upon  one  of  these  days, 
that  Mrs.  Akers  was  summoned  hastily. 

"  Oh  !  please,  will  you  come  ?  "  said  the  Drakes'  maid, 
who  stood  at  her  door,  bareheaded,  and  frightened  of 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  385 

face,  catching  her  breath  over  her  words.  "Miss 
Emily's  a-dyin',  an'  the  mistress  has  a  turn." 

Then  she  utterly  broke  down. 

Mrs.  Akers  waited  for  nothing  more,  but,  catching 
her  hat  and  shawl,  followed  the  girl  hastily  out  of  the 
house  and  through  the  street.  The  gate,  and  even  the 
door,  of  the  Brock  house,  for  once  stood  wide  open. 
Any  one  might  go  in  and  out  at  will,  now  that  the  awful 
visitor  had  come,  whom  neither  bolts  nor  bars  could 
keep  out,  and  who  waited  for  no  summons.  No  rigid 
form  upon  the  stairs  guarded  their  passage  to-day,  or 
motioned  her  back  as  the  woman  groped  her  way  up 
their  dark  length  to  where  the  girl  who  had  preceded 
her  beckoned  from  an  open  door.  With  all  the  dread 
of  the  moment,  as  she  stepped  over  the  threshold,  Mrs. 
Akers's  first  sensation  was  one  of  utter  bewilderment 
at  the  wild,  disorderly  magnificence  of  the  room  before 
her,  —  a  dazzling,  barbaric  splendor  of  color,  a  crowded 
confusion  of  elaborate  forms,  upon  which  her  eye  had 
no  time  to  rest ;  for  in  the  midst  of  all  tin's,  upon  a  bed 
which  might  have  served  in  richness  for  a  Pagan  altar, 
lay  the  girl  she  had  come  to  see.  Whatever  the  excite- 
ment of  the  previous  moment  had  been,  there  was  only 
quiet  and  peace  here  now.  The  windows  were  opened 
wide;  and  something  of  the  hush  and  stillness  of  the 
closing  day  outside  seemed  to  have  stolen  in. 

"  I  knew  you  would  come,"  Emily  said.  "  You  were 
always  kind.  Where  is  Edgar  ?  he  was  here  a  moment 
ago.  And  Remember  ?  " 

There  was  a  faint  stir  in  the  room  beyond,  the  door 
of  which  was  ajar.  A  woman's  still  form  was  lying  out- 
stretched upon  a  couch,  with  one  arm  hanging  lifelessly 
to  the  floor.  Then  Edgar  Wyman  appeared  with  the 


386  HIS    INHERITANCE. 

child,  closing  the  door,  and  shutting  out  the  vision  which 
seemed  so  much  more  deathlike  than  the  one  before 
Mrs.  Akers's  eyes.  For  the  strength  which  comes  often 
to  the  dying  had  fallen  upon  Emily  now.  She  beckoned 
to  the  child,  who  ran  to  nestle  close  by  her  pillows, 
while  the  young  man  nodded  half  sullenly  to  the  visitor, 
then  threw  himself  into  a  chair  by  the  bedside. 

"  This  is  for  you,  my  darling,"  Emily  said  solemnly, 
as  though  it  had  been  a  sacrament,  drawing  a  broad 
gold  ring  from  her  finger,  and  placing  it  upon  the  little 
hand  she  held  in  hers. 

The  child  looked  up  in  happy  wonder.  What  was  it 
that  came  to  Emily's  face  at  this  moment,  at  the  sight 
of  which  even  the  woman  beside  her  started  ?  It  was  the 
mother-look. 

"  She  is  mine  ! "  Emily  cried  suddenly,  holding  the 
little  one  close  in  her  arms,  and  turning  her  eyes,  big 
with  terror  and  beseeching,  upon  her  betrothed  lover. 
"  It  was  my  wedding-ring  !  I  ought  to  have  told  you  ; 
but  I  had  promised  mother  long  before.  But  it  cannot 
matter  now.  It  was  for  her,  —  poor  mother  !  —  who  did 
every  thing  for  me,"  she  went  on  hurriedly.  "  I  was 
very  young.  It  was  away  out  on  the  plains,  farther 
away  than  you  can  know  of,  that  I  met  him.  He  was  an 
officer  at  the  fort ;  and  he  chose  ME  "  —  oh  the  loving 
pride  and  wonder  in  the  words !  —  "  though  beautiful 
ladies  used  to  come  there  to  visit.  It  was  summer-time, 
like  this ; "  and  the  haze  of  the  Indian  summer  seemed 
to  have  fallen  on  her  face,  from  which  the  terror  had 
died  away,  making  it  beautiful  and  unearthly. 

"Every  one  wondered  that  he  should  have  married 
me ;  for  father  was  only  the  post-sutler,  and  not  an  offi- 
cer at  all.  But  we  were  so  happy !  oh,  so  happy,  for  a 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  387 

little  time !  Mother  used  to  say  that  he  would  come  into 
his  inheritance  some  day,  and  then  I  should  be  a  grand 
lady.  But  I  was  grand  enough  being  his  wife.  I  was 
all  she  had,  —  poor  mother !  —  for  father  was  dead.  And 
when  she  found,  after  a  while,  that  he  was  not  to  come 
into  his  property,  that  it  was  all  changed,  or  there  had 
been  a  mistake  from  the  first,  —  though  never  any  mixtake 
in  his  love  for  me, — she  could  not  forgive  him.  That 
was  after  he  was  ordered  away  to  carry  despatches  to  a 
fort  in  the  north.  He  went  with  the  others,"  •  -  in  the 
eagerness  of  her  recital  she  raised  herself  in  the  bed,  — 
"yes,  he  went  away  with  the  others,  and — he  never  came 
back !  They  were  attacked.  They  were  all  killed  but 
two  ;  and  he  never  came  back.  I  cannot  remember,  for 
I  was  ill.  But  we  came  away.  It  seemed  very  soon ; 
but  mother  said  there  was  nothing  to  stay  for  now. 
Still,  when  we  were  once  away,  and  I  had  gained  a  little 
strength,  I  begged  to  return,  I  begged  even  to  go  and 
search  for  his  body ;  but  they  said  that  could  not  be. 
I  did  not  believe  he  was  dead ;  for  at  the  last,  when 
he  was  going  away,  and  I  felt  my  heart  breaking,  he 
said,  '  I  shall  come  back  to  you.'  And  so  I  knew  he 
would,"  she  added  simply.  "And  what  if  he  should 
return,  and  find  us  gone,  no  one  knew  where  ?  But 
mother  would  not  go  back.  She  hated  the  place  she 
said,  where  nothing  but  trouble  had  come  to  us. 

"  Then  by  and  by  the  baby  came,  and  still  I  did  not 
believe  that  he  was  dead,  though  I  felt  that  I  had  not 
long  to  live.  I  used  to  lie  awake  at  night,  and  think  he 
would  return  some  day,  and  how  sorry  he  would  be  to 
find  the  baby,  and  not  me.  So  I  named  her  Remember. 
Oh!  he  would  remember  what  I  had  been  to  him  and  he 
to  me,  and  love  her  because  he  had  once  loved  me.  We 


388  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

moved  from  place  to  place.  I  could  not  rest ;  and 
mother  let  me  have  my  way.  Father  had  left  more 
money  than  we  had  dreamed  of.  We  were  rich,  though 
I  was  never  to  be  a  great  lady.  Another  year  and  more 
(two  or  three,  it  may  be)  dragged  by.  I  scarcely  know. 
It  was  a  weary  time,  though  it  seems  short  enough  to 
look  back  on  now.  Mother  used  to  cry  over  me  in 
those  days,  and  say  that  I  was  lost  to  her ;  I  might  as 
well  have  died.  She  urged  me  to  forget  that  time  and 
him,  to  give  the  child  to  her,  and  begin  again.  It  would 
be  all  the  same,  she  said.  We  should  never  be  separat- 
ed. But  I  could  not.  How  could  I  forget?  I  would 
not  listen  to  her,  not  till  long  afterward,  when  I  was 
tired  and  weak,  and  worn  out  with  contending;  not 
until  I  knew  that  it  would  not  be  for  long,  that  nothing 
would  be  for  long  to  me  here.  And  then  at  last  —  do 
you  think  he  will  blame  me  for  it  ?  —  at  last  I  began  to 
feel  that  he  would  never  come,  that  he  must  be  dead, 
and  that  nothing  mattered  any  more.  I  would  try  to 
make  poor  mother  happy,  and  he  would  know  —  oh! 
wherever  he  was,  he  would  know  that  I  never  forgot ; 
that  I  only  waited  for  the  time  when  I  could  go  to  him, 
since  he  could  not  come  to  me.  I  was  tired  of  the  noisy 
cities:  so  we  came  here,  and — you  know  all  the  rest.'' 
Her  eyes  had  turned  again  to  Edgar  Wyman.  "  You 
knew  that  I  had  no  love  to  give  to  any  man,"  she  said 
solemnly.  "  You  knew  —  I  told  you." 

He  did  not  seem  to  have  heard  her. 

"  And  that  is  your  child  ? "  His  words  came  sluggish 
and  thick,  as  though  he  were  drunken.  "And  you 
deceived  me  from  the  first  ?  "  He  was  bending  over 
her,  his  face  white  with  passion.  He  seized  her  arm, 
and  shook  her  in  her  bed.  "  I  will  never  forgive  you 
while  I  live  !  " 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  389 

The  child  screamed.  Mrs.  Akers  sprang  forward 
with  an  exclamation  of  horror ;  but  the  man  had  stag- 
gered out  of  the  room.  The  door  swung  heavily  to 
after  him. 

A  change  had  come  over  Emily's  face,  pressed  close 
to  that  of  the  sobbing,  frightened  child,  —  the  change 
which  can  never  be  mistaken.  But  the  woman  holding 
her  in  her  arms  must  ask  one  question.  A  dreadful 
fear  possessed  her. 

"  Dear  child,"  she  said,  "  you  forgot  to  tell  his  name. 
Who  was  your  husband  ?  Who  was  this  man  that  you 
loved  so  ?  " 

A  kind  of  wonder  spread  over  the  girl's  face.  "  I 
must  have  said  it."  Then,  with  loving  pride,  "  His 
name  was  Elyot,  Captain  Robert  Elyot." 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear ! "  Mrs.  Akers  cried  in  a  pas- 
sion of  remorse.  "  Did  you  never  know  —  has  no  one 
ever  told  you  "  — 

The  girl  rose  up  in  the  bed,  terror  and  doubt,  and  an 
awful  longing  in  her  eyes.  "  What  is  it  ?  What  could 
they  have  told  me  ?  " 

Then  she  fell  back  upon  the  pillows,  dead. 


390  HIS  INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

"  YOUR   COUSIN'S  WIFE  !      CAPTAIN  ELYOT'S  WIFE  !  " 

TO  the  people  of  the  town  where  she  had  been 
living,  the  announcement  that  poor  Emily  Drake 
was  no  other  than  Captain  Robert  Elyot's  mysterious 
wife  came  with  a  painful  shock.  At  first  it  could  not 
be  believed.  But  Mrs.  Akers  confirmed  it,  with  tears, 
as  she  repeated  the  story  she  had  heard  from  the  girl's 
own  lips.  "  I  was  strangely  drawn  to  her  from  the 
first,"  she  said.  And  then  out  of  her  full  heart  she 
told  all  she  had  ever  known  of  the  Drakes,  and  espe- 
cially of  Emily,  without  sparing  herself. 

There  was  no  need  to  make  a  secret  of  it  now.  Every 
one  must  know  the  truth  sooner  or  later.  Of  course  it 
would  be  necessary  to  communicate  with  Captain  Elyot 
at  once.  He  was  somewhere  abroad.  Mr.  Simpkins 
had  his  foreign  address,  —  the  address  of  his  bankers,  — 
and  had  from  time  to  time  assured  Mrs.  Akers  of  her 
cousin's  good  health,  -and  that  Captain  Robert  had  no 
present  intention  of  coming  home ;  so  that  he  doubt- 
less heard  from  him.  But  why  was  he  wandering  in 
strange  lands,  mourning,  as  every  one  believed,  the 
loss  of  this  young  wife  who  had  but  just  now  died? 
Very  little  had  been  known  of  Captain  Elyot  of  late 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  391 

years.  Contradictory  reports  of  his  having  suffered  or 
escaped  capture  at  the  hands  of  the  Indians  had  reached 
his  friends  not  long  after  his  marriage.  But  suffering 
or  heroism  in  the  Indian  country  does  not  count  for 
much,  as  every  one  knows ,  and  the  most  of  the  story 
had  exhaled  in  being  blown  across  the  continent.  Then, 
too,  it  had  come  at  a  time  when  the  young  man  was  in 
disgrace  on  account  of  his  low  marriage  and  his  uncle's 
displeasure,  and  when  interest  in  his  fortunes  had  well- 
nigh  died  out.  Although  no  one  was  inclined  to  doubt 
this  part  of  the  young  wife's  story,  it  added  not  a  little 
to  its  complication.  It  must  remain,  for  the  present,  an 
inexplicable  mystery  how  the  two  had  become  separated, 
and  what  strange  chance,  for  it  could  hardly  be  regarded 
as  a  providence,  had  kept  them  apart,  unknown  to  each 
other,  and  unknowing  of  each  other's  fate,  so  many 
years. 

But  one  question  was  repeated  again  and  again  by 
the  kind-hearted  ladies  of  the  square :  How  could  it 
be,  that  in  their  intercourse  with  this  family,  brief  and 
rare  though  it  had  been,  no  one  had  chanced  to  men- 
tion Captain  Elyot's  name  ?  Each  one  recalled,  now  that 
it  was  too  late,  some  particular  moment  when  it  might 
have  been  uttered,  when  it  must  have  been,  but  for 
the  sudden  diversion  of  the  awkward  conversation 
into  another  channel  or  its  abrupt  conclusion.  The 
Drakes  had  shown  a  fatal  lack  of  curiosity  as  to  their 
surroundings,  or  to  the  family  whose  house  had  become 
their  home.  Could  it  be  that  the  widow  had  feared,  or 
even  come  to  know,  the  truth?  Suspicion  pointed  per- 
sistently to  her  when  the  dying  girl's  story,  and  every 
thing  that  could  be  gathered  in  regard  to  the  Drakes, 
had  been  looked  through  and  through,  and  thoroughly 


392  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

discussed.  Had  she  come  between  the  husband  and 
the  wife,  separating  them  for  some  purpose  of  her  own, 
or  in  angry  disappointment  that  Captain  Elyot's  family 
had  turned  away  from  him  ?  This  was  more  than  hinted 
at  by  the  neighbors,  and  in  Mrs.  Akers's  presence,  with 
many  a  sorrowful  shake  of  the  head  over  the  disastrously 
successful  result.  But  the  truth  would,  in  all  proba- 
bility, never  be  known,  unless  Captain  Elyot  could  bring 
it  to  light.  Mrs.  Drake  lay  locked  in  a  silence  which 
seemed  eternal. 

But,  though  every  one  else  gave  free  expression  to 
surmises  and  opinions,  Mrs.  Akers  said  nothing,  after 
that  one  outpouring  of  her  heart.  She  knew  that  to 
herself  alone  among  all  these  kindly,  easily  prejudiced 
people,  opportunity  had  beckoned;  she  alone  might 
have  unravelled  the  mystery,  so  unlike  what  she  had 
fancied  it  to  be ,  she  might  have  set  this  matter  right, 
bringing  happiness  to  at  least  two  people,  instead  of 
lifelong  suffering,  and  death  even,  to  one.  She  could 
have  done  this  but  for  her  coldness,  her  silly  pride,  or 
an  indifference  more  blameworthy  than  either.  She 
even  wondered,  a  strange  dread  chilling  her  through, 
if  this  lost  chance  would  not  be  exacted  of  her  at  the 
last.  More  than  once  the  words  which  would  have 
opened  the  door  for  her  (Mrs.  Akers)  to  speak  had 
pressed  against  the  girl's  lips.  She  could  see  it  all, 
now  that  it  was  too  late.  When  we  look  back  from 
another  world,  that  clarified  vision  which  will  come  in 
reviewing  the  past  must  bring  a  pang  of  its  own,  and 
the  "  left  undone "  will  weigh  heaviest  of  all  against 
us,  if  I  mistake  not.  Perhaps,  in  this  case,  the  woman 
exaggerated  her  culpability.  Certainly  her  gentle  heart 
was  full  of  a  pain  keen  as  remorse.  Her  cousin  Rob- 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  393 

ert's  wife,  whom  she  had  once  thought  she  might  love 
as  a  sister !     She  hastened  away  home  to  her  husband 
as  soon  as  she  could  leave  the  distracted  house.     It  was 
more  than  she  could  bear  alone.     The  burden  of  her 
conscience  weighed   down   her  hands,  and   there  was 
absolutely  no  one,  so  far  as  she  knew,  to  assume  the 
care  of  this  strangely  helpless  family,  or  even  to  see  that 
the  dead  was  buried  away  out  of  sight.     She  was  near- 
est of  kin,  unless  it  should  be  found  that  the  Drakes 
had  relatives ;  and  upon  her  must  fall  the  responsibility 
of    directing    the    servants,   frightened,    superstitious, 
and  not  disinclined  to  shirk  at  this  time,  when  accus- 
tomed authority  had  given  way.     There  was   no   one 
but  herself  to  assume  the  care  of  the  household,  where, 
a  few  days  before,  she  had  been  regarded  as  a  stranger. 
She  despatched  a  messenger  at  once  to  Mr.  Simpkins. 
He  would  know  the  quickest  and  most  reliable  way  of 
getting  word  to  Captain  Elyot.     About  this  there  must 
be  no  jlelay.     He  might  be  able  to  throw  some  light 
upon  Mrs.  Drake's   affairs.     He   had   mentioned   once 
casually  that  Mrs.  Drake  had  asked  his  advice  upon 
certain  investments.     It  might  be  that  her  communi- 
cation had  gone  beyond  mere  business-matters.     There 
was  one  person  who  had  probably  been  informed  of 
the  family  connections,  if  there  were  any ;  and  that  was 
Edgar  Wyman.     But,  though  this  thought  occurred  to 
her,  it  came  only  with  a  shudder.     Never  for  a  moment 
did  the  woman  dream  of  calling  upon  him  for  advice 
or  aid.     To  her  he  would  be  from  this  time  as  though 
he  had  never  lived.     Fortunately  he   had  left   town  : 
there  was  no  need  to  dread  meeting  him  again.     But 
Mrs.  Drake  —  what  if  she  were  to  pass  from  this  living 
death  to  death  itself,  without  waking  ?    If  there  were 


394  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

relatives,  they  should  be  sent  for.  Mary  Akers  was  a 
Christian  woman,  and  responded  audibly  every  Sunday 
to  the  prayers  of  her  church.  She  did  not  hesitate  to 
declare  upon  her  knees  that  she  (with  the  rest  of  the 
respectable,  well-dressed  people  around  her)  had  "  erred 
and  strayed  as  lost  sheep."  And  yet  in  her  heart  of 
hearts  she  could  not  forgive  the  woman  lying  in  stony 
silence  in  the  room  above  her  for  what  she  had  done. 
How  this  separation  had  been  brought  about  between 
her  cousin  Robert  and  his  wife  was  still  as  great  a  mys- 
tery to  her  as  to  any  of  her  friends ,  but  that  the  widow 
had  herself  effected  it,  and  by  some  means  that  would 
not  bear  the  light,  she  had  no  doubt.  And  now  to 
think  that  this  woman  had  fallen  into  her  hands  to  be 
cared  for,  and  at  a  time  when  she  was  sore  from  her 
own  remissness  (for,  viewed  beside  the  widow's  proba- 
ble sins,  even  Mrs.  Akers  felt  her  own  conduct  to  be  no 
more).  It  was  certainly  very  desirable  that  some  of 
Mrs.  Drake's  friends  should  appear. 

"  Could  we  not  advertise  ?  "  she  asked  of  her  husband, 
the  morning  after  Emily's  death,  when  they  had  gone 
over  to  the  Brock  house  to  see  what  should  be  done. 

"  Certainly  not.  There  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  wait 
till  Simpkins  comes." 

The  doctor  had  already  sent  a  nurse.  She  had  taken 
up  her  position  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  where  the  widow 
lay,  in  a  silence  almost  as  unbroken  as  that  of  the 
patient. 

But,  before  the  lawyer  could  arrive,  a  servant  tapped 
at  the  door  to  announce  the  doctor.  Mrs.  Akers  had 
given  orders  that  he  should  be  detained  a  moment  after 
making  his  visit  to  the  sick-room.  He  had  been'  sum- 
moned in  haste  the  afternoon  before,  when  poor  Emily 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  395 

was  "  struck  with  death,"  but  had  not  arrived  until 
all  was  over ;  and  though  he  had  made  two  visits  since, 
in  the  sorrowful  confusion  of  the  house  no  one  had 
thought  to  apprise  her  of  the  fact.  He  was  not  Mrs. 
Akers's  own  family  physician,  but  a  stranger  from  the 
adjoining  town,  and  doubtless  looked  upon  the  sick-room 
as  his  own  domain,  having  established  his  viceroy  in 
the  person  of  the  silent  nurse,  and  uttered  his  decrees 
without  regard  to  the  rest  of  the  house,  or  any  appear- 
ance of  interest  in  its  condition  or  management. 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better  see  him,"  Mrs.  Akers  said 
to  her  husband.  A  natural  re-action,  after  the  tense 
excitement  of  the  past  twenty-four  hours,  had  brought 
a  strange  feeling  of  languor,  with  a  sudden  shrinking 
from  responsibility,  to  the  woman  upon  whom  all  these 
painful  and  unusual  cares  had  fallen. 

"  Suppose  he  comes  in  here.  Let  the  girl  show  him 
in  here,"  her  husband  rejoined. 

He  was  standing  before  the  fire  in  the  dining-room  , 
for  some  one  had  remembered  to  light  a  fire  on  the 
hearth,  now  that  the  house  had  taken  up  tolerably 
orderly  ways  again.  The  room  was  much  the  same  as 
when  Mary  Akers  knew  it  long  before.  All  the  silly, 
showy  finery  of  the  rest  of  the  house  had  been  spared 
here ,  or  possibly  Emily's  serious  illness  had  put  aside 
any  thought  of  further  changes.  The  pale  November 
sunshine  crept  in  between  the  heavy  faded  curtains,  and 
lay  across  the  carpet  the  crimson  of  which  had  dulled 
to  a  dead  brown,  as  it  did  that  well-remembered  morn- 
ing long  ago,  when  old  Mr.  Brock  had  urged  his  niece 
to  look  kindly  upon  her  cousin  Robert.  But  her  cousin 
Robert,  as  well  as  herself,  had  chosen  elsewhere.  For 
poor  Emily  Drake, — for  so  Blossom  would  always  be 


396  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

named  by  these  friends  who  had  known  her  only  as  a 
faded  blossom,  —  for  this  shy,  pale  girl,  he  had  risked 
every  thing.  Tender  as  her  heart  was  toward  the 
poor  child  lying  with  a  still  white  face  upon  the  bed 
up  stairs,  Mary  Akers  felt  a  momentary  wonder  that  it 
should  have  been  so.  But  the  door  opened  upon  the 
doctor,  breaking  up  and  scattering  her  reverie. 

"  Ah,  Mrs.  Akers  ! "  he  said,  advancing  cordially  and 
naturally.  They  were  not  entire  strangers,  having  occa- 
sionally met  at  the  house  of  a  friend  in  town.  But  at 
the  sight  of  her  saddened  face,  and  the  plain  black  dress 
she  had  put  on  out  of  respect  to  her  cousin  Robert's 
wife,  his  own  manner  became  at  once  subdued  and 
regretful.  "  This  is  sad,  very  sad,"  he  went  on,  having 
shaken  hands  with  Tom  Akers,  who  was  a  good  deal 
put  out  of  his  usual  ease  by  his  attempts  to  show  a  becom- 
ing sorrow  over  these  people  whom  he  had  never  seen 
above  once  or  twice.  "  The  young  lady  was  in  a  bad 
way,  —  one  of  those  cases  where  alleviation  only  is  pos- 
sible :  still  I  did  not  anticipate  so  sudden  an  end.  Some 
unusual  exertion,  I  should  say,  possibly  a  slight  shock. 
Life,  at  times,  hangs  by  a  thread,  especially  where  a 
remarkably  sensitive  organization  has  been  worn  down 
by  long  illness." 

"  She  was  much  moved  at  the  last,  I  cannot  deny ,  still 
the  change  had  come  before  that,"  Mary  Akers  answered 
sadly  and  thoughtfully.  "  The  shock  was  for  us,  —  for 
me,"  she  went  on  in  a  slightly  broken  voice.  "  She  was 
my  cousin  Robert's  wife,  —  my  cousin  Robert  Elyot,  in 
whose  house  we  are  at  this  moment.  What  strange 
chance  could  have  brought  them  here  ?  "  she  added,  for- 
getting that  her  listener  could  have  no  idea  of  what  she 
was  talking  about. 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  397 

"  Your  cousin's  wife  ?  —  Captain  Elyot's  wife  ?  Do  I 
understand  you  to  say  that  Miss  Drake  was  your  cousin's 
wife  ?  "  The  half-professional  tone  of  sympathetic  sor- 
row gave  place  to  an  expression  of  the  most  incredulous 
surprise. 

"  Did  I  not  say  that  the  shock  was  for  us,  —  for  me  ?  " 
And  with  her  heavy-lidded  eyes,  and  complexion  strik- 
ingly pale  against  the  deep  black  of  her  gown,  Mrs.  Akers 
appeared,  indeed,  like  one  who  had  suffered  sharply 
either  physical  or  mental  pain. 

"  It  was  only  at  the  last  moment  that  we  learned  it,  — 
when  it  was  too  late,"  she  added  to  herself,  and  almost 
with  a  sob. 

"I  knew  Captain  Elyot  very  well  at  one  time:  I 
remember  something  of  his  marriage.  But  I  have  under- 
stood that  his  wife  was  dead." 

"  So  we  believed.  We  have  never  doubted  that  he 
gave  up  the  army  and  went  abroad  because  of  her  loss. 
And  yet  my  cousin  Robert's  wife  is  lying  now  in  this 
house."  She  clasped  her  hands,  and  leaned  toward  him, 
in  her  eagerness  of  belief  in  the  truth  of  what  she  was 
saying. 

The  doctor  was  incredulous.  He  was  almost  inclined 
to  be  angry.  How  could  he  have  been  so  deceived  ? 
And  what  did  these  people  mean  by  withholding  all  con- 
fidence from  their  physician,  after  this  manner,  —  if  this 
story  were  true  ? 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  said ;  "  but  are  you  sure  there  is  no 
mistake  ?  I  have  had  serious  doubts  of  Mrs.  Drake's 
sanity.  In  this  house,  and  with  certain  family  circum- 
stances coming  to  her  knowledge,  it  would  not  be  strange 
if  a  disordered  imagination  "  — 

But  Mrs.  Akers  interrupted  him. 


398  HIS  INHERITANCE. 

"  It  was  the  daughter  who  told  the  story,  and  when  she 
knew  that  she  was  dying.  Mrs.  Drake  never  knew  "  — 
And  then  she  went  back  to  the  beginning  of  her 
acquaintance  with  the  Drakes,  and  recounted  the  whole. 
It  was  best  that  he  should  know  it  all.  It  was  due  to 
the  physician,  who  was  a  wise  and  honorable  gentleman 
as  well,  and  capable  of  proving  a  friend  in  this  strait. 
But  it  was  an  incomplete  story  at  best,  she  felt.  "  We 
do  not  pretend  to  understand  it,"  she  said  at  its  close. 
"  We  only  wait  for  cousin  Robert  to  come  home.  But 
you  believe  now  that  she  was  his  wife,  do  you  not  ? " 
She  was  so  shaken  by  all  she  had  gone  through,  that  a 
little  matter  disturbed  her.  His  grave  doubt,  strongly 
expressed,  had  unsettled  her,  although  it  had  not  brought 
her  to  doubt. 

"  It  seems  so  —  it  would  certainly  seem  so."  The 
doctor  pulled  at  his  beard,  and  stared  doubtfully  into 
the  fire.  Circumstances,  the  every-day  circumstances 
with  which  he  had  had  to  do  in  this  family,  as  well  as 
his  own  sceptical  turn  of  mind,  were  against  this  view 
of  the  matter.  It  appeared  to  him  that  Mrs.  Akers  had 
looked  for  no  evidence  beyond  the  mere  statement  of 
this  girl,  who,  weak  and  sick,  overborne  by  the  strong 
will  of  her  mother,  might  easily  have  been  deceived, 
if  no  worse.  He  had  risen,  and  was  slowly  drawing  on 
his  gloves.  With  all  his  freshly-aroused  interest  in  these 
people,  he  could  not  forget  that  other  patients  were  wait- 
ing for  him.  "Could  the  girl  have  been  deceived?" 
he  asked  absently,  aloud. 

"  That  would  have  been  impossible,"  Mrs.  Akers  said 
hastily. 

"  Pardon  the  doubt,  my  dear  madam ;  but  really  I 
must  turn  this  matter  over  in  my  own  mind  before  dar- 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  399 

ing  to  offer  a  decided  opinion.  We  will  speak  of  it 
again.  I  shall  look  in  toward  night.  You  will  see  that 
the  house  is  quiet ;  and,  for  the  rest,  I  have  given  direc- 
tions to  the  nurse.  You  need  not  disturb  yourself.  She 
is  a  most  reliable  person,  and  will  watch  Mrs.  Drake 
unremittingly,  so  as  to  send  for  me  if  there  is  the  slight- 
est change  in  her  symptoms." 

"Yes  —  Mrs.  Drake."  Mrs.  Akers  roused  herself 
with  an  effort.  She  was.  going  over  again  in  her  mind 
all  the  circumstances  of  Emily's  story,  dissecting  it,  and 
examining  each  part.  "  I  had  almost  forgotten  Mrs. 
Drake.  Will  you  tell  us  quite  frankly  if  there  is  any 
chance  of  her  recovery?  And  there  was  something 
else,  —  oh,  about  her  friends !  If  there  are  friends,  ought 
we  to  send  for  them  ?  " 

"  If  there  are  near  relatives,  it  would  be  well  to 
notify  them  of  her  condition  perhaps ;  though  she  may 
linger  in  this  state  for  some  time,  and  even  partially 
regain  the  use  of  her  faculties.  But  I  have  really  not 
another  moment  that  I  can  call  my  own."  And  he 
bowed  himself  out  of  the  room  and  the  house. 


400  HIS   INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

"AND  NOW  WILL  YOU  NOT  SEND  FOR  COUSIN  ROBERT?" 

IT  was  not  until  late  in  the  day  that  Mr.  Simpkins 
answered  the  summons  made  upon  him.  He  had 
been  called  away  from  his  office ;  and  the  messenger,  de- 
spatched in  haste,  had  not  been  able  to  find  him.  But 
Mrs.  Akers,  foreseeing  some  such  difficulty,  had  written 
a  note,  which  was  left  to  await  his  return.  It  was  only 
a  few  lines ;  this,  indeed  :  — 

MY  DEAR  MR.  SIMPKINS,  —  Mrs.  Drake's  daughter  has  sud- 
denly died.  We  are  in  great  trouble.  Will  you  not  come  to  us 
at  once,  and  oblige  yours  very  truly, 

MARY  LANE  AKERS. 

All  through  the  long  day  she  waited  for  him  at  the 
Brock  house,  sitting  alone,  dull  and  depressed,  but  grow- 
ing nervously  uneasy  as  the  hours  wore  away,  and  he 
did  not  appear.  Her  husband  had  been  obliged  to  go 
to  town  ;  and  the  child  —  Emily's  child  —  she  had  left 
in  the  care  of  the  sympathetic  servants  at  her  own  house. 
She  was  full  of  forebodings  as  the  time  dragged  slowly 
on.  Perhaps  Mr.  Simpkins  had  never  received  her  note, 
which,  indeed,  had  nearly  come  true,  since  it  was  over- 
looked, and  only  fell  into  his  hands  by  chance  at  last. 


HIS  INHERITANCE.  401 

She  regretted  not  having  mentioned  Captain  Elyot's 
name  in  it.  The  agent  would  believe  that  the  appeal 
to  him  was  in  behalf  of  the  Drakes,  for  whom  he  would, 
perhaps,  be  willing  to  put  himself  to  no  great  trouble. 
If  she  had  even  hinted  at  the  truth,  he  would  have  sot 
all  other  business  aside,  and  come  to  her  at  once.  Her 
husband  would  possibly  call  at  his  office.  Why  did  she 
not  think  to  suggest  it?  She  walked  back  and  forth 
the  length  of  the  dining-room,  unable  to  settle  herself 
to  any  one  place,  as  the  morning  lengthened  to  noon. 
Sometimes  she  mounted  the  narrow  stairs,  pausing  on 
the  broad  landing  near  the  top,  to  listen  for  any*  sound 
from  the  room  where  the  widow  was  lying.  But  every 
thing  was  still,  —  still  as  the  silence  of  that  other  room, 
into  the  hush  of  which  she  stole  at  last,  a  chill,  a  tremor 
as  of  fear,  creeping  over  her  as  she  stood  by  the  bed. 
But  it  had  passed  away  when  she  turned  back  the  sheet 
covering  the  figure  lying  there.  All  the  longing,  the 
agony  of  desire,  to  know  the  truth,  had  died  with  life 
out  of  the  face  of  the  girl.  She  smiled  as  though  in  a 
pleasant  dream.  And  the  woman,  leaning  over  her, 
kissed  her  cheek,  and,  covering  her  face  again,  went 
down  to  her  solitary  watch,  comforted,  though  she 
knew  not  why. 

It  was  time  for  the  lamps  to  be  lighted ;  but  the  room 
still  lay  in  a  heavy  shadow,  relieved  only  by  the  fire- 
light, when  Mr.  Simpkins  was  announced. 

"  Eh,  what  is  all  this  ?  What's  this  I  hear,  my  dear 
lady?" 

The  birds  of  the  air,  or  some  other  irresponsible  tale- 
bearer, had  met  him  on  the  way  with  a  confused  account 
of  strange  revelations  and  dreadful  confusion  at  the 
Brock  house.  His  manner  was  hushed,  as  became  a 


402  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

house  of  mourning,  but  bewildered,  as  he  took  the  chair 
offered  him,  while  Mrs.  Akers  hastened  to  get  the  girl 
out  of  the  room. 

"  Bring  a  light,  Nora,  please,"  she  said.  And  then, 
when  the  door  had  closed  after  the  servant,  although 
she  could  scarcely  see  his  face  for  the  darkness,  she 
began  hurriedly  to  tell  the  story,  which  had  lost  some- 
thing of  its  power  to  thrill  her  with  horror  over  its  con- 
clusion, now  that  she  had  repeated  it  so  many  times, 
making  others  as  well  as  herself  to  share  in  that  last 
painful  scene.  She  had  spoken  freely  to  the  physician ; 
but  she  was  even  less  reserved  with  Mr.  Simpkins.  She 
kept  nothing  back;  not  even  her  suspicion  that  the 
widow  had  herself  brought  about  all  this  dreadful  mis- 
understanding. She  set  the  subject  before  him  in  every 
light  in  which  she  had  made  it  appear  to  herself. 

"And  now  what  do  you  think  of  it?"  she  asked  in 
conclusion,  when  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  related 
or  conjectured. 

"It  is  strange,  very  strange,"  Mr.  Simpkins  replied 
thoughtfully.  But  he  did  not  call  in  question  the 
truth  of  poor  Emily's  story  as  the  doctor  had  done. 

"  And  what  ought  we  to  do  ?  "  Mrs.  Akers  went  on. 
"  We  have  really  no  one  to  go  to,  but  you.  We  must 
send  for  Captain  Elyot,  of  course.  But  Mrs.  Drake  — 
has  she  any  friends  ?  Did  you  learn  any  thing  of  the 
family  at  the  time  cousin  Robert  was  married  ?  " 

"  Only  that  the  girl's  father  was  post-sutler  at  Fort 
Atchison,  where  Captain  Elyot  was  stationed  at  the 
time.  Your  uncle  Jeremy  told  me,  the  morning  lie 
came  over  to  my  office  to  tear  up  the  will  he  had  made 
in  Captain  Elyot's  favor.  He  was  in  a  terrible  rage." 

"  It  was  a  cruel,  unjust  thing  to  do.    I  never  quite 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  403 

forgave  him  for  it ;  not,  at  least,  until  he  died  without 
making  another  will." 

"  Perhaps  it  was,  from  your  point  of  view.  But  you 
must  remember  that  it  was  a  bitter  disappointment  to 
him;  and  his  life  had  been  full  of  these.  He  had 
staked  every  thing  upon  your  cousin.  And  you  will 
acknowledge,  that,  with  Captain  Robert's  opportu- 
nities and  expectations,  this  was  not  a  very  grand  mar- 
riage, hardly  what  your  uncle  Jeremy  had  a  right  to 
look  for.  Mind,  I  do  not  say  that  I  uphold  your  uncle 
in  his  conduct.  I  am  speaking  of  his  feelings,  and  what 
he  naturally  expected.  And  it  was  a  great  disappoint- 
ment. Though  I  told  him  at  the  time,  that,  in  destroy- 
ing the  mil,  I  considered  he  was  acting  in  a  hasty 
manner,  and  one  which  he  might  yet  regret.  But  Mr. 
Brock  was  not  a  man  to  accept  advice.  There  were 
certain  other  considerations.  He  had  formed  other 
plans,  which  had  to  be  put  aside,"  Mr.  Simpkins  added 
slowly. 

Mary  Akers  knew  very  well  what  these  other  plans 
were  ;  but  she  made  no  response. 

"  And  was  there  really  nothing  against  the  girl  but 
this?" 

"  Nothing,  so  far  as  I  could  learn.  I  inquired,  with 
some  pains,  quietly,  thinking  your  uncle  Jeremy  might 
be  more  reasonable  in  time.  Captain  Elyot  was  a  fine 
young  fellow,  even  allowing  that  he  had  made  a  mis- 
take. It  was  a  pity  that  he  should  lose  the  property." 

But  Mrs.  Akers  paid  no  attention  to  this  panegyric. 

"You  inquired  ?"  she  repeated  hastily.  "What  did 
you  hear?  Do  tell  me  all  you  know  of  this  poor  girl. 
If  I  could  only  bring  her  back ! "  she  added,  her  eyes 
filling  with  tears.  The  peace  and  rest  of  heaven  might 


404  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

be  welcome  to  the  poor  thing ;  but  there  was  some- 
thing almost  better  for  her  here,  if  one  would  dare  to 
say  so.  "  It  was  not  right  for  her  to  die,"  she  said 
passionately.  "  Don't  call  it  a  providence.  Is  it  a 
providence  when  people  scheme  and  connive,  or  even 
blunder  stupidly,  and  make  every  thing  go  wrong,  and 
others  besides  themselves  suffer?"  €he  was  choking 
with  the  sobs  she  tried  to  hold  back.  The  tears  were 
falling  hot  and  fast  into  her  lap.  "I  am  nervous,  as 
you  see,"  she  said  after  a  moment,  in  which  she  suc- 
ceeded in  controlling  herself ;  "  but  this  affair  has  taken 
hold  of  me  strangely,  and  I  do  not  feel  entirely  blame- 
less. But  go  on,  tell  me  all  you  learned  of  the  family." 
"It  was  not  much,"  Mr.  Simpkins  replied,  settling 
himself  back  in  uncle  Jeremy's  own  chair.  "  You  know 
young  Apthorpe  was  at  Fort  Atchison  a  while, — spoke 
very  well  of  Captain  Elyot,  too,  by  the  way.  He  said 
this  girl  and  her  mother  were  living  there  alone  at 
that  time.  The  father  was  dead;  had  been  killed  by 
the  Indians  some  months  before,  when  Captain  Elyot 
saved  the  daughter's  life.  I  made  a  memorandum  of 
the  statement  at  the  time,  to  which  I  could  refer  if 
necessary.  The  particulars  have  slipped  my  mind. 
But  this  will  probably  explain  the  subsequent  intimacy, 
and  the  marriage  which  so  displeased  your  uncle.  The 
mother  was  an  odd  creature,  strong-willed  and  passion- 
ate. She  was  settling  her  husband's  business-affairs, 
and  keeping  up  the  sutler's  store  until  the  arrival  of 
the  man  appointed  in  his  place.  A  kind  of  she-bear, 
Apthorpe  described  her,  and  jealously  anxious  over  this 
girl,  who  never  left  her  side.  Indeed,  only  one  or  two 
of  the  officers  were  allowed  to  speak  to  her,  I  believe, 
or  to  enter  the  woman's  house." 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  405 

"  Yes,  that  is  like  Mrs.  Drake." 

"  To  be  sure,  though  I  should  not  have  thought  of 
it,"  Mr.  Simpkins  responded.  "  The  girl  was  very 
pretty  and  lady-like,  Apthorpe  said.  She  had  been 
educated  in  the  East.  '  Elyot  need  never  be  ashamed 
of  his  wife ;  though  the  mother  is  a  devil,'  he  said. 
It  was  a  strong  expression,  which  I  should  hardly 
repeat  in  the  presence  of  a  lady  but  for  its  possible 
bearing  upon  present  circumstances."  And  little 
Mr.  Simpkius  bowed  his  head,  and  stroked  his  fat 
white  hands. 

"  And  there  was  money,  I  think  I  have  heard.  Mrs. 
Drake  appears  to  be  a  person  of  means." 

Mrs.  Akers  was  too  anxious  to  get  at  the  facts  to  be 
particular  as  to  the  lawyer's  manner  of  stating  them. 

"  That  was  the  impression  at  the  time.  The  sutler 
was  said  to  have  left  a  large  property,  immense,  indeed, 
Apthorpe  said;  but  that  was  doubtless  an  exaggera- 
tion." 

"Possibly,"  Mrs.  Akers  responded  absently,  gazing 
into  the  fire.  "And  they  might  have  been  happy  to 
this  day,"  she  went  on,  "yes,  and  for  years  to  come, 
here,  in  cousin  Robert's  own  home ;  for  he  would  have 
left  the  army,  I  am  sure,  if  only  uncle  Jeremy  had 
been  kind,  and  this  dreadful  woman  " 

"  Careful,  my  dear  lady,"  Mr.  Simpkins  interrupted 
her.  "  It  has  yet  to  be  proved,  you  must  remember." 

He  looked  at  the  clock  upon  the  mantel. 

"  Bless  me  !  And  I  promised  to  be  back  in  town  in 
half  an  hour.  Now  for  a  little  business."  With  this 
frank,  charming  woman  beside  him,  it  was  impossible  to 
sav  to  what  dangerous  communications  upon  family 
!ifl;iirs  he  might  not  be  led.  "  We  are  speaking  of  Mrs. 
Drake.  What  do  you  propose  to  do?" 


406  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

"  What  ought  we  to  do  ?  We  do  not  even  know  if 
there  are  friends,  family  friends,  who  should  be  sent  for, 
or  warned  of  her  illness." 

Mr.  Simpkins  pursed  up  his  lips,  arid  shook  his  head 
with  an  air  of  doubt. 

"  If  she  were  poor,  I  should  say  not.  But  it  is  aston- 
ishing what  an  invigorator  money  proves  to  be  to  one's 
relatives,  how  it  quickens  the  memory,  and  even  pro- 
longs life !  I  dare  say  some  one  claiming  kinship  with 
her  could  be  found,  if  an  effort  were  made.  But  first 
let  us  clear  up  this  mystery  somewhat.  You  had  better 
write  quietly  to  Fort  Atchison  —  stay,  I  will  find  out 
from  Apthorpe  the  address  of  the  officer  in  command  at 
the  time  of  the  marriage.  We  could  have  Captain 
Elyot  home  at  once,  if  necessary." 

"  Where  is  he  ?  and  can  you  reach  him  so  easily  ? 
Oh,  then,  do  send  for  him  !  He  might  even  be  in  time 
for  the  funeral,"  Mrs.  Akers  said  eagerly. 

"  Not  so  fast,  not  so  fast."  And  Mr.  Simpkins  rose, 
and  placed  himself  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  clasping 
his  hands  by  an  effort  which  made  his  round  face  quite 
red.  "  I  have  his  banker's  address  in  Paris,  to  be  sure 
but  he  would  hardly  return  to  Paris  so  early  in  the 
season  as  this.  I  think  his  last  letter  was  from  some 
out-of-the-way  village  in  the  Tyrol." 

"  And  did  he  say  nothing  of  coming  home  ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all :  it  was  simply  a  few  words  in  regard 
to  a  matter  of  business.  But,  before  taking  any  steps 
in  this  affair,  we  must  see  if  we  have  sufficient  grounds 
for  them.  It  would  be  comparatively  easy  to  call 
Captain  Elyot  home.  There  might  be  some  delay,  as 
he  has  no  fixed  residence ;  but  we  should  reach  him,  in 
time,  through  his  bankers.  But  there  is  another  ques- 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  407 

tion  to  be  considered  first.  Now  mind,  I  do  not  wish 
to  throw  a  doubt  upon  the  story  you  have  been  so  kind 
as  to  relate  to  me.  It  is  highly  probable,  I  admit.  Jt 
is  consistent,  in  many  points,  with  what  we  already  know 
of  this  family.  But  can  we  prove  it  by  other  evidence, 
— as  we  shall  certainly  be  called  upon  to  do,  —  and,  first 
of-  all,  to  Captain  Elyot  himself?  One  moment,  if  you 
please,"  for  Mrs.  Akers,  astonished,  and  almost  angry, 
at  this  sudden  turn  from  concurrence  to  doubt,  would 
have  interrupted  him.  "  Look  at  the  facts.  Here  is  a 
man  who  has  believed  for  five  years,  let  us  say,  that 
his  wife  is  dead.  The  grounds  of  his  belief  I  do  not 
know.  They  were  evidently  sufficient  to  convince  him, 
and  to  alter  the  whole  course  of  his  life.  Now,  sud- 
denly, after  all  these  years,  a  person  appears,  claiming 
to  be  this  wife.  She  dies  with  this  declaration  upon 
her  lips,  after  relating  a  story,  plausible,  ingenious  (if 
untrue),  but  so  indefinite  as  to  localities,  time,  &c., 
that  it  would  not  stand  for  a  moment  in  law.  We  have 
absolutely,  so  far,  no  evidence  whatever  as  to  the  truth 
of  this  statement." 

"  How  can  you  doubt  that  poor  girl's  story,  told  when 
she  knew  she  was  dying?  "  Mrs.  Akers  said  indignantly. 
•*  I  thought  you  would  come  to  our  assistance.  I  be- 
lieved you  would  bring  cousin  Robert  home ;  but  I  was 
deceived.  I  am  disappointed  in  you."  Her  eyes  shone, 
then  suddenly  dropped  tears.  "  Give  me  the  address," 
she  went  on.  "  I  will  send  for  him.  I  am  not  afraid 
to  trust  this  poor  child  who  is  beyond  defending  herself 
now." 

"You  are  too  hasty  in  your  conclusions,  my  dear 
madam.  But  it  is  the  way  with  your  sex,"  replied  the 
lawyer,  smiling  still  from  a  superior  height  of  affability. 


408  HIS  .INHERITANCE. 

"  I  said  there  was,  so  far,  no  evidence.  But  evidence, 
let  me  say,  is  to  be  searched  for,  to  be  dug  up  from 
below  the  surface  of  ordinary  life.  However,  any 
little  matter  will  do  for  the  present,  any  slight  cor- 
roboratory testimony  to  warrant  us  in  sending  for 
.Captain  Elyot.  Suppose  we  look  at  once.  Have  }TOU 
come  upon  any  letters  or  papers?  Perhaps  you  can 
direct  me." 

"  I  am  afraid  not.  I  simply  turned  and  removed  all 
the  keys,  since  we  know  nothing  of  the  servants," 
Mary  Akers  replied  in  sudden  meekness  and  shame. 

"A  very  wise  precaution." 

Mr.  Simpkins  crossed  to  uncle  Jeremy's  writing-desk, 
a  clumsy  piece  of  furniture,  half  bookcase  and  half 
writing-table,  filling  the  space  between  the  two  windows 
overlooking  the  garden. 

"  If  you  will  give  me  the  keys,  I  will  begin  here." 

She  offered  no  objection,  but  put  them  at  once  into 
his  hands.  After  all,  his  cool,  and  she  had  almost  said 
heartless,  manner  of  proceeding  might  do  more  for  poor 
Emily  than  her  hot,  unreflecting  partisanship.  She  was 
ashamed  that  she  had  doubted  him  for  a  moment,  and 
stood  meekly,  and  still  burning  with  the  mortification  that 
had  succeeded  her  angry  speech,  looking  over  his  shoul- 
der as  he  unlocked  the  green-baize  doors,  and  searched 
both  pigeon-holes  and  drawers  for  any  thing  which  might 
throw  light  upon  this  mystery.  But  there  was  nothing, 
no  letter  or  scrap  of  paper,  that  bore  any  reference  to 
this  matter ;  only  bills  neatly  tied  up  in  bundles,  and 
leases  made  out  in  printed  forms,  and  all  quite  properly, 
in  Mrs.  Drake's  own  name. 

"  Do  you  know  of  any  other  receptacle  for  papers, 
without  disturbing  the  sick  woman  ?  "  asked  the  lawyer, 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  409 

as  he  turned  the  key  sharply  in  the  last  lock,  and  pushed 
his  chair  back. 

"Nothing  would  disturb  Mrs.  Drake,"  Mrs.  Akers 
replied.  "  Still  you  could  not  go  there,"  she  added 
reflectively.  "  I  remember  to  have  noticed  a  writing- 
case,  a  small  affair  that  one  could  carry  in  the  hand,  in  " 
—  what  should  she  call  this  girl,  who,  it  seemed,  was  not 
yet  proved  to  be  her  cousin  Robert's  wife  ?  She  paused, 
then,  drawing  a  quick  breath,  added,  "in  my  cousin's 
room.  It  certainly  was  not  there  in  uncle  Jeremy's 
time." 

Mr.  Simpkins  gave  a  sharp  glance  at  the  clock.  A 
foreign  mail  left  the  next  day  at  noon.  If  a  letter  were 
to  be  sent  to  Captain  Robert,  it  must  be  mailed 
within  a  couple  of  hours.  "  May  I  trouble  you  to  send 
for  it  ?  "  he  said  briskly. 

"  I  will  go  myself."  She  lit  one  of  the  candles  in  the 
shining  brass  candlesticks  over  the  fireplace,  and  went 
and  brought  it  down,  not  without  much  trembling, 
and  a  shiver  of  excitement,  like  fear,  as  she  passed  the 
bed  where  the  dead  girl  lay.  She  fancied  its  covering 
stirred ;  or  was  it  the  night-wind  entering  at  the  open 
window  that  touched  it,  and  made  it  move,  as  though 
poor  Emily  would  protest  against  this  attempt  to  dis- 
cover her  secrets !  "  It  is  for  you,  my  poor  child !  it  is 
to  bring  him  home,"  she  said  almost  aloud,  as  she  closed 
the  door  upon  the  room  which  seemed  so  cruel  in  its  icy 
chill. 

She  set  the  writing-case  down  upon  the  table  before 
Mr.  Simpkins.  It  had  been  a  handsome  article  of  Rus- 
sia leather,  but  was  defaced  and  worn  now,  as  if  from 
hard  service.  As  she  set  it  down,  the  candle  in  her 
hand  suddenly  flared,  bringing  out  with  startling  dis- 


410  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

tinctness  some  half-effaced  letters  stamped  in  the  leather 
upon  one  side.     They  read,  — 

"  CAPTAIN  ROBERT  ELYOT,  4TH  U.  S.  CAVALRY." 

"  Do  not  open  it,"  said  Mary  Akers,  laying  both  hands 
upon  the  worn  desk  which  had  so  unexpectedly  spoken 
to  them  both.  What  tender  secrets,  which  they  had  no 
right  to  penetrate,  might  it  not  conceal !  "  Is  not  this 
corroboration  enough  ?  And  now  will  you  not  send  for 
cousin  Robert  ?  " 

"  I  think  we  may,"  Mr.  Sirnpkins  replied,  with  an  air 
of  thoughtful  deliberation.  "  This  is  by  no  means  con- 
clusive :  still  I  think  we  may  be  justified  in  sending  for 
him." 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  411 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

WAITING. 

A  LETTER  was  accordingly  despatched  to  Captain 
Elyot  in  the  lawyer's  most  terse  style.  Mary 
Akers  would  gladly  have  taken  this  part  upon  herself; 
but  the  time  was  too  short  to  allow  of  her  saying  all 
she  desired ;  and,  besides,  Mr.  Simpkins  would  not  hear 
to  her  faintly  expressed  wish.  "  No,  no  ! "  he  said  as 
he  buttoned  his  coat,  and  prepared  to  take  his  leave. 
"  The  less  said,  the  better  at  present.  I  shall  write  a  few 
lines  only,  stating  the  bare  facts." 

She  knew  by  this  time  how  exceeding  bare  Mr.  Simp- 
kins's  facts  would  be ;  but  she  had  no  spirit  left  to  contest 
the  point.  She  only  waited  in  a  kind  of  fever  for  the 
reply,  which  came,  after  due  and  long  time,  from  the  for- 
eign bankers:  Captain  Elyot  had  started  a  month 
before  upon  a  tour  in  the  East,  leaving  no  address :  his 
letters  were  to  be  written  for,  later,  when  he  had  deter- 
mined upon  his  route. 

What  was  to  be  done  now  ? 

"  Let  them  send  some  one  after  him.  Do,  Mr.  Simp- 
kins,  write  again  !  If  he  had  only  been  gone  a  month, 
they  could  easily  overtake  him,"  Mrs.  Akcrs  argued. 
And  the  lawyer,  being  of  much  the  same  mind,  did  send 


412  HIS   IKHEEITANCE. 

a  second  letter  to  U.  Zellweger  &  Co.,  No.  29  Rue  de 
Provence,  Paris,  requesting  them  to  take  measures,  with- 
out delay,  to  find  Captain  Elyot,  whose  presence  was 
required  at  home.  Letters  of  explanation  were  already 
on  their  way  to  him  at  their  address,  Mr.  Simpkins 
added :  and  so  there  were,  for  by  this  time  Mrs.  Akers 
herself  had  written,  trusting  to  intercept  her  cousin 
Robert.  She  felt  that  a  woman's  sympathy  would  be 
much  to  him  at  this  time,  especially  if  that  woman 
were  one  of  his  own  kindred,  and,  above  all,  that  he 
should  be  made  to  know  more  than  the  lawyer's  formal 
letter  had  told  of  the  strange  circumstances  which  were 
calling  him  home.  She  wrote  with  Mr.  Simpkins's 
guarded  consent;  for  having  broken  ground,  as  one 
might  say,  by  discovering  Captain  Elyot's  writing-desk, 
other  bits  of  evidence  came  at  once  to  the  surface  to 
prove  poor  Emily  Drake's  identity  with  her  cousin 
Robert's  wife.  As  if  these  were  not  enough,  at  the  last 
moment,  the  day  of  the  funeral,  —  for  there  had  been 
no  delay,  since  Captain  Elyot  could  not  reach  home  in 
time,  and  there  was  no  change  in  Mrs.  Drake's  condition, 
—  Mr.  Simpkins  appeared  with  a  stranger  at  his  side. 
It  was  no  other  than  Captain  Apthorpei  home  on  a  brief 
leave  of  absence,  whom  the  little  lawyer  had  met  most 
unexpectedly  that  very  morning  upon  the  street. 

"  I  ventured  to  bring  him,"  Mr.  Simpkins  apologized 
to  Mrs.  Akers,  "  in  the  hope  that  he  might  put  this  ques- 
tion beyond  a  doubt.  You  do  not  object  ?  "  he  asked 
in  a  lower  tone.  "  Remember,  he  has  seen  your  cousin's 
wife  repeatedly  at  Fort  Atchison." 

The  stranger  had  considerately  turned  his  back,  and 
was  staring  out  of  the  window  upon  the  neglected  gar- 
den, sear  and  yellow  now,  under  a  November  sky. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  413 

"  I  do  not  object  ?  Oh,  no !  Why  should  I  object  ?  " 
But  Mrs.  Akers  put  out  a  hand  to  steady  herself  against 
the  table,  —  a  hand  dressed  in  a  black  glove.  The 
finger  of  the  clock  had  almost  reached  the  hour.  She 
could  hear  the  feet  of  the  men  whose  business  it  was  to 
wait  upon  the  dead  moving  in  the  next  room.  Some- 
times a  hushed,  jarring  voice  came  out.  And  what  if 
now,  at  this  late  moment,  it  should  all  be  a  mistake  ? 
She  was  faint  at  the  thought.  There  was  no  time  to 
lose.  "  Come,"  she  said,  and  led  the  way  across  the  hall 
into  the  gaudy  drawing-room,  all  stiff  and  staring  with 
its  great  gilt  mirrors,  but  which  had  never  been  gar- 
nished for  an  occasion  like  this.  There  was  no  one 
here  except  the  men  who  stood  at  the  coffin-head,  pre- 
pared to  cover  the  face,  when  Mrs.  Akers  approached, 
with  a  swift,  still  movement.  She  motioned  them  back. 
Captain  Apthorpe  stepped  to  the  side  of  the  coffin.  He 
looked  at  the  dead  girl,  then  the  blood  flew  to  his  face. 
"  What  is  it  ?  Tell  me  the  truth,"  said  Mrs.  Akers  in 
a  strained  whisper.  She  was  facing  him,  compelling  his 
eyes,  full  of  pain  and  shame,  to  meet  hers.  "Is  it 
not "  —  She  could  not  speak  the  rest. 

"  I  do  not  know.  It  is  dreadful  that  I  should  have 
come  here.  —  Simpkins,  why  did  you  ask  me  ?  It  is 
years  since  I  saw  her,  and  "  But  Mr.  Simpkins  was 
putting  Mrs.  Akers  into  a  chair.  Her  strength  had  sud- 
denly left  her.  One  of  the  men  who  had  been  waiting 
at  the  door  brought  a  glass  of  water.  But  she  put  it 
away,  and  rose  with  an  effort.  She  could  hear  the 
wheels  of  the  hearse  grating  against  the  curbstone.  It 
had  come  to  take  poor  Emily  to  the  church  ;  for  Mrs. 
Akers  had  vmvrd  in  lu-r  In-art  that  every  respect  possi- 
ble now  should  be  paid  to  her  cousin's  wife.  The  peo- 


414  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

pie  were  there  already.  The  minister  would  be  waiting. 
"  Come  up  stairs,"  she  said  almost  wildly.  "  He  must 
see  Mrs.  Drake." 

But  Captain  Apthorpe  demurred. 

"  I  beg  of  you,  don't." 

He  was  astonished  and  distressed  at  the  position  in 
which  he  found  himself.  And  would  they  put  him  to  a 
new  trial  ?  But  Mrs.  Akers  had  already  mounted  the 
stairs,  and  was  in  parley  with  the  nurse. 

"  She  knows  nothing,  she  sees  nothing.  She  has  not 
even  opened  her  eyes,"  she  said  to  him  in  a  quick,  dis- 
tinct whisper.  "  You  are  to  follow  the  nurse." 

It  was  all  bewildering  to  the  man.  Who  was  it? 
Who  had  not  so  much  as  opened  her  eyes  ?  He  did  not 
understand  at  all.  He  stepped  over  the  threshold  into 
a  darkened  room,  following  a  dimly-defined  figure  mov- 
ing noiselessly  before  him.  The  air  of  the  room  was 
stifled :  there  was  an  odor  of  drugs.  Was  that  the  bed 
looming  darkly  before  him  ?  The  nurse  had  stepped 
aside.  He  paused,  waiting  for  her  to  make  some  sign. 
Suddenly,  as  she  opened  the  blinds,  there  came  a  broad 
sweep  of  light  across  the  bed,  revealing  the  outlines  of 
a  still  figure,  and  a  set,  gray  face  with  bands  of  snow- 
white  hair  on  either  side.  Was  this,  too,  death  ?  But 
as  he  gazed  with  a  kind  of  horrible  fascination  on  him, 
the  closed  eyelids  trembled  slightly ;  then  they  opened 
full  upon  him. 

"  Good  heavens !  It  is  Mrs.  Stubbs ! "  he  gasped 
aloud. 

"  Go  away,  quick,"  said  the  nurse,  fairly  pushing  him 
out  of  the  room ;  "  and  tell  some  one  to  run  for  the 
doctor.  She's  woke  up  at  last !  " 

They  carried  Blossom  to   the   church  where   uncle 


HIS   INHERITANCR  415 

Jeremy  had  worshipped  for  many  years.  All  the 
neighborhood,  and  more,  pressed  in ;  for  her  story  had 
spread  far,  —  the  broken  story,  which  was  believed  lor 
its  very  strangeness.  And  she  was  "as  good  as  the 
best  of  them,"  for  one  brief  hour  at  least.  Indeed, 
if  she  had  been  born  to  her  honors,  there  could  hardly 
have  been  more  tears  shed  over  the  poor  young  thing. 
And  then  they  laid  her  away  —  poor  little  Blossom  !  — 
whose  claim  to  be  a  lady  was  only  acknowledged  at  this 
late  moment,  and  by  putting  her  to  rest  in  the  great, 
grand  tomb  of  the  Brock  family. 

And  when  all  this  was  over,  and  not  until  then,  Mrs. 
Akers  was  able  to  turn  her  thoughts  to  the  widow. 
She  had  "come  to  herself,"  the  nurse  said,  when  the 
physician  had  been  brought  in  haste.  But  this  was 
only  partially  true.  "  Herself  "  was  still  a  long  way  off 
from  the  fettered  body,  from  the  staring  eyes  that  had 
no  recognition  in  them,  not  even  when  the  child  was 
brought,  —  frightened  and  shrinking  at  first,  but  soon 
only  full  of  wonder,  —  and  led  up  to  the  bed.  Speech 
had  not  returned;  and,  whether  the  change  were  a 
step  toward  dissolution  or  recovery,  no  one,  not  even 
the  doctor,  would  dare  say.  They  could  only  wait, 
while  the  soul  lay  locked  in  with  its  sin,  if  sin  there 
were.  Even  this  little  rift  shed  no  light. 

But  one  outward  effect  followed  this  change.  At  the 
physician's  expressed  desire  the  child  was  coaxed  every 
day  now  to  spend  an  hour  in  the  sick-room.  At  first 
awe  imposed  a  strange  quiet  upon  the  little  creature,  who 
was  full  of  life  at  other  times;  but  this  soon  passed 
away.  Was  it  a  fancy  of  the  watchers,  or  did  those 
expressionless  eyes  follow  the  movements  of  Emily's 
child  as  it  played  about  the  room  ?  And  who  could  say 


416  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

that  the  touch  of  the  little  hands  might  not  yet  quicken 
the  dead  muscles,  or  the  young  voice  call  to  life  the 
sleeping  consciousness  ? 

The  winter  came  on  earlier  than  usual  this  year.  It 
hurried  with  feet  shod  in  ice  after  the  spring-like  days 
that  had  preceded  poor  Blossom's  death.  But  the  time 
dragged  to  Mary  Akers,  filled  though  it  was  with 
cares.  She  was  much  worn  by  all  she  had  passed 
through,  and  the  fever  of  expectation,  which  made  her 
start  at  every  strange  footstep,  and  sent  the  blood  to  her 
heart  at  every  peal  of  the  bell.  Who  could  tell  at  what 
moment  her  cousin  Robert  might  appear  ?  She  dreaded 
the  meeting;  and  yet  he  would  not  come  unwarned. 
The  edge  of  his  grief  and  surprise  —  for  there  must  be 
great  and  terrible  surprise  —  would  be  taken  off  before 
he  reached  her.  She  began  to  talk  to  the  child  of  this 
unknown  papa  who  was  coming  home  to  see  his  little 
daughter  "in  a  big  ship  from  over  the  sea."  There 
was  something  resonant  in  the  words,  which  caught  the 
little  maiden's  ear,  and  brought  her  from  her  playthings 
to  stand  at  Mrs.  Akers's  knee.  There  was  even  some- 
thing tangible  in  the  idea  of  a  ship  to  the  infant  mind, 
her  picture-books  having  taught  her  the  meaning  of  this 
word.  But  further  the  young  imagination  could  not  go : 
and  Mrs.  Akers  gave  up  her  attempt  at  last  in  despair. 
Time  and  opportunity  would  do  more  than  all  her  efforts 
could  accomplish  toward  awakening  natural  affection. 
It  was  only  necessary  for  Captain  Elyot  to  come  home. 
She  dragged  from  the  garret  at  the  Brock  house  the 
heavy  old  furniture  which  had  been  stored  away  during 
Mrs.  Drake's  rule,  and  re-arranged  the  rooms,  as  far  as 
she  was  able,  in  a  likeness  of  what  they  had  been  in 
uncle  Jeremy's  day.  If  she  had  dared,  she  would  have 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  417 

removed  every  trace  of  the  widow's  vulgar  taste.  It 
was  all  an  eyesore  and  an  abomination  to  her:  it  was 
worse  than  that,  it  was  a  desecration ;  for  this  old 
house,  where  her  love-dream  had  begun,  had  almost  the 
sacredness  of  a  temple  to  the  woman.  But  the  widow's 
lease  had  not  yet  expired,  and  Mrs.  Akers  was  by  no 
means  sure  of  the  height  or  depth  to  which  her  assumed 
authority  might  extend  without  being  called  in  question. 
She  contented  herself,  therefore,  with  removing  the 
objects  most  offensive  to  her  eyes,  under  a  pretence, 
even  to  herself,  of  extra  care.  But  Emily's  room  was 
undisturbed.  The  key  was  turned  in  the  lock,  and  no 
one  crossed  the  threshold  after  the  poor  girl  was  carried 
out.  As  the  winter  wore  away,  more  than  one  letter 
came  over  the  ocean  from  the  foreign  bankers  in  regard 
to  Captain  Elyot.  He  had  left  Paris  a  month  before 
Mr.  Simpkins's  first  letter  came  to  hand.  At  Marseilles 
he  had  taken  a  steamer  for  Alexandria ;  but,  an  accident 
occurring,  the  passengers  were  put  ashore  at  a  small  port 
in  Southern  Italy,  to  go  on  as  best  they  could,  —  some 
by  vetturino,  to  the  nearest  railway,  and  others,  after  a 
little  delay,  by  boarding  the  next  steamer.  While  they 
were  still  striving  to  find  out  which  of  these  courses 
was  pursued  by  Captain  Elyot,  a  report  travelled  back 
to  Paris  from  Alexandria  that  he  was  preparing  to 
ascend  the  Nile.  Before  the  truth  of  this  could  be 
ascertained,  a  rumor  came  from  Cairo,  that  lie  had  left 
that  city  for  the  interior,  having  joined  an  exploring 
party. 

If  this  were  true,  he  was  practically  beyond  reach  for 
some  months  to  come,  for  an  indefinite  time.  The  bank- 
ers were  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed.  They  wrote  for 
instructions. 


418  HIS   INHEEITANCE. 

It  was  well  toward  spring  when  this  letter  reached 
Mr.  Simpkins.  He  forwarded  it  at  once  to  Mrs.  Akers. 

"  You  may  as  well  give  it  up,  Mary.  He  will  not  put 
in  an  appearance  for  a  year  at  least,"  said  her  husband. 

"O  Tom!  He  will  never  come  home  if  this  is  true. 
What  shall  we  do  ?  Those  foreign  people  are  to  blame. 
They  should  have  got  ahead  of  him,  instead  of  follow- 
ing him  at  a  snail's  pace.  Somebody  must  start  in 
search  of  him." 

"  Suppose  we  go,  —  you  and  I.  Not  to  the  interior 
of  Africa,  perhaps;  though  we  might  skirt  the  edges  of 
that  mysterious  region,"  Tom  Akers  added. 

"But  the  child?  We  could  never  leave  the  child." 
And  Mrs.  Akers  glanced  toward  the  little  figure  upon 
the  floor,  bent  nearly  double  in  its  efforts  to  nurse  a 
huge  doll.  There  was  an  expression  of  anxiety  upon 
the  woman's  face,  a  slight  contraction  of  the  eyebrows, 
not  unusual  now.  It  struck  her  husband  all  at  once 
that  these  many  cares  were  beginning  to  tell  upon  his 
wife.  The  more  reason  why  she  should  have  a  change. 

"  Oh,  she  would  do  well  enough  !  or  we  might  take 
the  little  maid  along.  —  How  would  you  like  to  go  and 
find  your  papa,  —  a  real  papa,  with  his  pockets  full  of 
sugarplums  ?  "  he  added  to  the  little  one,  who,  aware 
that  she  was  being  talked  about,  through  the  subtle 
instinct  so  alike  in  animals  and  young  children,  had 
laid  her  doll  down  to  come  and  stand  beside  him.  He 
lifted  her  to  his  knee.  She  had  been  overlooked  at  first 
in  the  press  of  suddenly  acquired  responsibility ;  but 
she  was  growing  very  dear  to  these  people,  who  had  no 
children  of  their  own. 

"  Oh,  no  !  that  would  never  do,"  Mrs.  Akers  said  has- 
tily. "  She  could  never  travel  so  far.  Something  might 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  419 

happen  to  her.  Besides,  we  should  be  obliged  to  move 
so  slowly  on  her  account,  that  we  should  miss  him  very 
likely.  No,  Mr.  Simpkins  ought  to  go." 

"  But  he  may  not  be  able  to  leave  his  own  affairs." 

"Are  not  these  his  affairs?  And  it  would  be  made 
up  to  him.  Cousin  Robert  would  see  that  it  was  no 
loss."  She  stooped,  and  took  the  child's  face  between 
her  hands,  and  kissed  it  almost  passionately,  leaving  a 
tear  upon  the  round  wondering  countenance.  Ah,  how 
could  her  cousin  Robert  regret  any  amount  of  money 
spent  in  bringing  him  home  to  the  child !  What  would 
gold  be  to  her,  if — she  checked  the  sigh  half-uttered 
as  her  husband  tossed  a  letter  into  her  lap. 

"  Who  is  your  correspondent  now,  Mary  ?  I  did  not 
recognize  the  hand." 

"  It  must  be  from  the  Bryces.  You  know  I  wrote 
to  Major  Bryce  a  fortnight  ago  to  inquire  for  Mrs. 
Drake's  friends." 

"  The  list  appears  rather  formidable,"  as  Mary  Akers 
tore  open  the  envelope,  disclosing  three  or  four  closely- 
. written  sheets.  It  was  indeed  from  Mrs.  Bryce,  —  a 
long  account  of  the  Stubbses,  as  she  called  them,  and 
especially  of  Blossom's  story  so  far  as  it  had  come  under 
the  eyes  of  the  major's  wife.  But  it  was  so  mingled  with 
ejaculations  of  horrified  surprise  over  what  Mrs.  Akers 
had  written,  and  of  self-reproach  that  she,  Mrs.  Bryce,  had 
not  in  some  way  averted  these  calamities,  as  to  be  almost 
unintelligible.  One  point,  however,  was  made  tolerably 
clear  by  this  letter,  though  it  filled  Mary  Akers's  gentle 
mind  with  horror.  "  What  will  you  think,"  wrote  Mrs. 
Bryce,  "  when  I  assure  you  that  a  newspaper  was  sent 
to  us  five  years  ago,  or  a  little  less  (it  was  the  beginning 
of  winter,  I  remember),  addressed  in  Mrs.  Stubbs's  own 


420  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

hand,  and  containing  among  the  deaths  (she  had  drawn 
a  line  about  them  to  attract  our  attention)  the  name  of 
Captain  Elyot's  wife  ?  She  was  ailing  at  the  time  they 
went  East,  and  we  never  for  a  moment  doubted  that 
she  had  died.  It  was  this  moved  Captain  Elyot  to 
leave  the  army,  and,  after  searching  for  Mrs.  Stubbs  in 
vain,  to  go  abroad  to  forget  his  trouble.  If  what  you 
write  proves  true,  I  am  sure  Mrs.  Stubbs  is  the  cause 
of  it  all.  I  shall  never  forgive  myself  for  having 
suffered  them  to  leave  Fort  Atchison,  although,  as  the 
major  said  at  the  time,"  etc.,  etc. 

"  O  Tom !  how  can  I  tend  upon  this  woman  when  I 
know  that  she  has  done  this  ?  "  said  Mary  Akers,  allow- 
ing the  letter  to  drop  into  her  lap. 

Tom  Akers  threw  his  cigar  into  the  fire. 

"This  is  bad  business,  Mary.  We'll  talk  it  over 
with  Simpkins ;  and  something  shall  be  done,  if  I  have 
to  start  to-morrow,  to  bring  Elyot  home." 

But  the  result  of  the  conference  with  the  lawyer  was, 
that  Mr.  Simpkins  himself  sailed,  a  week  later,  for 
Havre. 

The  interest  of  the  neighborhood  was  in  no  degree 
abated  in  the  Drakes :  it  was  only  transferred  now  to 
Captain  Elyot  and  African  explorations.  Every  item 
of  news  which  bore  even  indirectly  upon  the  interior 
of  that  country  was  seized  upon,  discussed,  and  com- 
pared, with  reference  to  this  missing  individual.  But 
spring  stole  upon  the  town  again,  marshalling  all  its 
forces  in  green,  and  trumpeting  the  summer  by  many 
an  early  bird;  and  still  Captain  Elyot  did  not  come 
home. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  421 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

COMPENSATION. 

rTlHERE  is  one  day  in  each  year  when  the  city  of 
-L  which  I  have  been  writing  awakens  to  a  new  life. 
It  is  in  the  beginning  of  summer,  upon  the  anniversary 
of  the  battle  fought  here  so  long  ago.  Then  the  old 
town  arises,  shakes  itself  free  from  its  slumbers,  and 
puts  on  its  beautiful  garments,  flaunts  its  gay  flags, 
peals  its  loud  bells,  and  utters  its  sentiments  of  liberty 
and  loyalty  anew.  The  square  about  the  monument 
is  thronged ;  even  the  grassy  terrace  from  which  it 
rises  is  gay  with  crowds  of  people  in  holiday  attire. 
Tents  for  penny-shows,  with  startling  announcements 
painted  upon  their  sides,  spring  up  as  if  by  magic; 
booths  in  which  lemonade  and  gingerbread  are  offered 
noisily  for  sale  burst  out  at  every  corner ;  hoarse  voices 
are  shouting  these  attractions ;  organs  are  playing,  dark- 
eyed  children  dancing  to  the  tinkle  of  tambourines ; 
soldiers  are  marching  with  drum  and  fife  or  brazen 
trumpet:  one  would  think  that  the  quiet  town  had 
suddenly  gone  mad.  It  is  the  gay,  wild  carnival  of  a 
dream,  which  will  vanish  in  a  night,  while  within  the 
houses  upon  the  square  hospitality  smiles  and  beckons, 
and  outdoes  itself. 


422  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

The  day  was  almost  over  ;  but  with  the  shadows  the 
crowd  increased.  It  was  not  yet  night,  hardly  twilight, 
only  a  softer,  faintly-shaded  day,  evoked,  perhaps,  by 
the  music  beginning  to  sound  in  some  long-drawn, 
pathetic  air  from  an  unseen  point  beyond  the  monu- 
ment, toward  which  the  stream  of  people  was  tending. 
Upon  the  more  deserted  side  of  the  square,  within  her 
long  French  windows,  thrown  wide  open,  yet  partially 
screened  from  the  passers  outside,  Mrs.  Akers  had 
gathered  a  party  of  intimate  friends,  somewhat  weary 
after  the  protracted  excitement;  the  younger  ladies, 
at  least,  contented  to  pose  themselves  in  graceful  silence 
until  the  mild  revelry  of  the  evening  should  draw  them 
forth.  In  the  street  the  noisy  bustle  had  died  to  a  low, 
continuous  sound  of  moving  feet  and  distant  voices,  — 
a  kind  of  murmuring  undertone  to  the  music  floating 
back  upon  the  drowsy  air.  The  booths  were  almost  de- 
serted. The  red-faced  woman  of  multitudinous  aprons 
at  the  stand  across  the  way  had  found  a  moment  at 
last  to  refresh  herself  with  a  glass  of  her  own  ginger- 
beer.  An  organ-man,  dusty  and  unkempt,  yet  gay  in 
a  scarlet  waistcoat,  came  strolling  down  the  street,  and 
halted  before  the  balcony.  He  unslung  his  organ 
wearily,  then,  all  his  manner  changing,  suddenly  struck 
up  a  lively  air,  accompanying  himself  with  a  marvellous 
whistle,  while  his  jaded  wife,  travel-stained,  and  sad- 
colored  of  face  and  gown,  forced  a  momentary  gayety 
as  she  took  up  her  old  tambourine.  In  a  moment  the 
stragglers  along  the  now  quiet  street  flocked  together ; 
others  drew  near,  attracted  by  the  merry  tones,  reviving 
the  spirit  of  the  waning  day.  The  young  people  who 
had  sat  listlessly  behind  the  half-drawn  curtains  stepped 
out  of  the  windows.  More  than  one  glance  of  bold 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  423 

admiration,  possibly  of  envy,  was  tossed  upward  to 
the  balcony,  with  its  clouds  of  pink  and  white  and 
crimson,  its  bright  eyes  and  gay  smiles,  as  the  languor 
of  the  moment  before  was  thrown  off.  It  was  a  pretty 
picture,  a  bit  of  bright  color  in  the  gray  and  darkening 
street :  so  one  man,  at  least,  seemed  to  regard  it,  —  a 
gentleman,  and  apparently  a  foreigner ;  for  after  gaz- 
ing with  more  than  the  interest  of  an  ordinary  passer, 
and  screened  from  sight  by  the  deeper  shadows  of  a 
friendly  tree,  he  crossed  the  street,  and,  making  his  way 
through  the  crowd,  mounted  the  steps  to  the  open  door, 
and  entered  the  house.  No  one  of  the  party  upon  the 
balcony  had  observed  him.  The  organ  had  come  to 
the  end  of  its  merry  tunes.  As  it  ceased  playing,  the 
hilarity  of  the  two  principal  actors  in  the  scene  van- 
ished in  an  instant,  as  though  they  had  been  moved 
by  invisible  wires  connecting  them  with  the  organ. 
The  man,  heavy  and  stiff,  and  stupid  all  at  once,  ad- 
justed the  straps  to  his  shoulders  and  moved  on,  half 
bent,  through  the  dispersing  crowd ;  the  woman  raised 
her  battered  tambourine  in  both  hands,  with  a  smile 
upon  her  lips  in  which  the  dull  eyes  had  no  part. 
Everybody  leaned  out  and  down.  A  shower  of  pennies 
pattered  into  the  tambourine. 

The  stranger,  in  the  mean  time,  had  advanced  from 
within  to  the  parted  curtains,  and  stood  regarding  the 
group  of  handsome,  comfortable  people  with  a  curiosity 
that  appeared  almost  eager.  Recognition  seemed  to 
kindle  the  expression  of  his  bronzed  face  as  his  eye 
passed  from  one  to  another,  resting  last,  and  with  curi- 
ous attention,  upon  Mrs.  Akers,  who  stood  with  one  hand 
upon  the  balcony-rail,  and  with  her  head  turned  aside  to 
watch  this  weary,  unwomanly  figure  tramping  away. 


424  HIS   INHEEITANCE. 

Some  slight,  fresh  movement,  or  perhaps  the  momen- 
tary hush  of  voices  at  the  appearance  of  this  stranger, 
where  all  were  old  friends,  recalled  her  to  herself. 

"Good-evening,"  she  said  graciously,  advancing  to 
meet  him,  yet  puzzled  to  know  which  of  her  half-remem- 
bered acquaintances  this  could  be. 

He  was  looking  with  kindly,  curious  eyes  into  her 
face. 

"Is  this  Mrs.  Akers?  May  I  venture  to  call  you 
cousin  Mary  ?  My  name  is  Elyot  —  Robert  Elyot." 

"  Then  you  received  our  letters  at  last,"  she  gasped, 
forgetting  every  thing, —  the  friends  around  her,  —  every 
thing  but  this  matter  which  had  lain  like  a  stone  upon 
her,  and  had  only  been  rolled  away  for  a  little  hour. 

"  Your  letters  ?  No.  Did  you  write  to  me  ?  That 
was  kind."  He  still  grasped  her  hand.  There  were 
tears  in  the  man's  eyes.  To  find  himself  at  home  again, 
and  welcomed  like  this,  to  know  that  some  one  had 
thought  of  him  when  he  had  believed  himself  alone  in 
the  world,  and  uncared  for,  was  almost  too  much  of  joy. 

Mary  Akers  fell  to  trembling. 

"  You  have  seen  Mr.  Simpkins  ?  " 

"  No.  They  told  me  at  his  office  that  he  had  gone 
abroad." 

"  And  he  missed  you  I  But  the  letters  —  in  Paris,  at 
your  banker's  ?  " 

"  They'll  follow  me,  I  dare  say.  I  "came  directly  from 
the  East,  by  way  of  Gibraltar  and  England." 

But  what  was  it  ?  She  had  some  ill  news  for  him,  he 
could  see.  She  had  become  quite  white,  even  to  the 
lips,  that  had  forgotten  to  smile  on  him.  Had  the  banks 
that  held  his  money  failed  ?  Had  his  riches,  valued  so 
lightly  now,  taken  to  themselves  wings?  Ah,  well !  he 
had  borne  a  heavier  loss. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  425 

"  One  moment,"  he  said  quietly,  "  till  I  have  spoken 
with  these  friends."  He  called  each  one  by  name,  pour- 
ing out  his  greetings  with  a  warmth  of  which  lie  was 
half  ashamed  a  moment  later,  for  there  seemed  a  strange 
constraint  upon  them  all.  One  after  another  they  made 
some  awkward  excuse,  and  slipped  away,  until  he  found 
himself  alone  with  Mrs.  Akers. 

"Sit  here,"  she  said,  pushing  forward  the  ottoman 
deserted  by  the  last  one.  And  yet  how  could  she  tell 
him! 

The  shadows  had  grown  closer  and  closer.  The  moon, 
like  a  ghost  of  herself,  appeared  overhead,  with  a  train 
of  trembling  stars.  Still  the  crowd  streamed  by,  glancing 
up  to  stare,  or  nod  and  smile,  as  the  case  might  be.  A 
child  strolled  slowly  across  the  dusty  street,  timid,  often 
pausing,  yet  beguiled  at  every  step  by  some  unusual 
sight,  enjoying  a  stolen  liberty.  It  was  Emily  Drake's 
child,  who  had  eluded  its  nurse,  and  escaped  from  the 
Brock  house,  who  hung  shyly,  in  view  of  the  stranger, 
upon  the  iron  railing  of  the  steps  now,  waiting  to 
attract  Mrs.  Akers's  eye.  There  was  something  in  the 
poise  of  the  head,  there  was  every  thing  in  the  sweet, 
upturned  face,  to  recall  Blossom.  The  man,  leaning  back 
in  his  seat,  started  up. 

"  Who  are  you,  dear?     What  is  your  name ?  " 

His  voice  held  a  tone  sharper  than  curiosity.  The 
child  swung  slowly  back  and  forth  for  a  moment,  then 
lifting  her  eyes  —  so  like  Blossom's !  —  she  replied  in  the 
solemn  deliberate  tone  peculiar  to  childhood,  — 

"  Remember." 

"  Remember  !  "  repeated  the  man.  "  O  my  God !  don't 
I  remember !  " 

"  Come  here,  dear,"     Mrs.  Akers  beckoned  the  child 


426  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

into  the  house.  And  then,  in  the  half-darkened  room, 
with  the  little  one  in  her  arms,  and  the  music  and  shouts, 
and  many  a  gay  laugh,  floating  in  from  the  street  outside, 
—  a  jarring  accompaniment,  —  she  told  the  story  I  have 
tried  to  tell  here,  with  self-reproaches  and  with  bitter 
tears. 

And  Blossom,  if  she  did  indeed  look  down  upon  the 
heart-broken  man  who  heard  it,  could  have  had  no  doubt 
of  his  faithful  love,  of  whom  she  had  said,  "  How 
sorry  he  would  be  to  return  some  day,  and  find  the  baby, 
and  not  me !  " 

The  Brock  house  was  closed  once  more ;  for  Captain 
Elyot  took  his  child,  and  went  abroad  again  a  few  weeks 
later,  when  the  widow's  death  had  set  him  free.  Perhaps 
because  she  had  been  Blossom's  mother  (though  she 
had  ruined  her  life  and  his),  perhaps  the  awful  fear 
and  shame  of  visiting  his  anger  upon  this  poor  death- 
bound  creature,  made  him  tend  her  faithfully  while  she 
lived.  Did  she  know  him  ?  Did  she  feel  the  living  coals 
he  heaped  upon  her  head  ?  No  one  could  say.  She 
died,  and  made  no  sign. 

The  house  was  closed ;  and  foolish  stories  crept  about 
that  it  was  haunted.  It  was  said  that  Emily  appeared 
at  nightfall  at  the  windows  overlooking  the  garden. 
"If  I  could  believe  it,"  said  Captain  Elyot,  to  whom 
these  idle  tales  came  in  time,  "how  gladly  would  I 
return  there ! " 

At  one  of  the  Elyse*e  balls  at  Paris  during  the  win- 
ter of  187- ,  a  young  girl  of  exquisite  figure,  and  sweet, 
thoughtful  face,  came  out  from  the  Salon  of  Salutation, 
leaning  upon  the  arm  of  a  middle-aged  gentleman,  whose 
bearing  was  almost  military  in  its  erectness. 


HIS   INHERITANCE.  427 

"  Who  is  she  —  that  charming  girl  in  a  robe  of  sea- 
foam,  (is  it  not?)  and  with  something  like  phospho- 
rescence shining  upon  her  bosom  and  in  her  hair  ?  "  asked 
a  young  American,  newly  arrived  in  Paris,  of  the  young 
Count  d'Alembert  by  his  side. 

"  Pardon  me ;  but  one  would  know  that  you  had  been 
only  twenty-four  hours  in  Paris,"  was  the  reply.  "  That 
is  the 'beautiful  American'  (distinguished  individuals 
are  referred  to  only  by  their  titles), — your  country- 
woman, though  she  has  spent  the  most  of  her  life  on  the 
continent.  Her  father,  Captain  Elyot,  —  you  thought 
him  her  lover?  A  mistake  often  made.  There  is  a 
story"  —  the  count  shrugged  his  shoulders  —  "told  in 
a  thousand  ways.  It  is  enough  to  know  that  he  had 
nearly  lost  her  as  a  child.  Now  he  attends  her  every- 
where. Observe  the  expression  of  her  face  as  she 
addresses  him.  Ah,  my  friend !  one  would  do  much  to 
win  such  a  regard  as  that.  But  she  is  already  affianced, 
and  to  one  of  your  own  countrymen.  He  is  approaching 
now,  with  a  yellow  mustache  and  a  distinguished  air." 
There  was  a  roll  of  r-r's  behind  the  Frenchman's  white 
teeth.  "  For  myself  I  abhor  a  yellow  mustache  !  You 
recognize  him  ?  Ah,  yes,  yes !  General  Orme  was  well 
known  in  your  late  war.  They  say  that  he  was  a  friend 
of  her  father  when  they  were  both  younger ;  and  they 
sometimes  add  that  he  loved  her  mother.  But  who  can 
tell?" 

The  young  American's  eyes  still  followed  the  beauti- 
ful girl.  She  had  dropped  her  hand  from  her  father's 
arm,  and  stood  the  centre  of  a  group,  her  face  animated, 
her  eyes  beaming  to  brilliancy,  yet  drooping  shyly  as 
they  were  turned  from  time  to  time  upon  her  lover,  - 
a  man  of  noble  presence,  but  evidently  of  twice  her  age. 


428  HIS   INHERITANCE. 

"  Beautiful  ? "  repeated  Count  d'Alembert,  echoing  an 
exclamation  at  his  side.  "  You  may  well  say  that. 
She  has  created  a  sensation  this  season,  —  her  only  one 
for  the  present.  They  sail  in  a  few  weeks  for  America, 
—  immediately  after  the  marriage.  The  father  accom- 
panies them.  But  that  goes  without  saying:  they  are 
never  separated.  Yes,  yes :  she  is  most  beautiful,  and 
as  charming  in  conversation  as  in  face  and  manner,  I 
can  affirm,  since  I  have  the  honor  of  her  acquaintance. 
Present  you?  Ah,  my  friend !  why  lay  up  for  yourself 
pains  which  must  be  unavailing?  Let  me  whisper  in 
your  ear :  I  have  been  near  the  candle  !  " 


Franklin  Press :  Rand,  Avery,  &  Co.,  Boston. 


TIE!  IE 

FALL  OF  DAMASCUS. 

AN  HISTORICAL  NOVEL. 
BY    CHARLES    WELLS    RUSSELL. 

izmo.    Cloth.    $1.50. 


"A  book  of  no  common  order.  The  scene,  in  the  eternal  city  of  Damascus  ; 
the  time,  during  the  reign  of  Heraclius ;  the  personages,  Roman,  Greek, 
Syrian,  and  Saracen ;  the  mingling  of  solid  fact  and  exuberant  fancy,  —  all  go 
to  make  up  a  romance  as  different  as  one  can  easily  imagine  from  the  conven- 
tional and  familiar  modern  novel.  The  opening  chapter  introduces  us  at  once 
to  the  very  presence  of  the  persons  of  the  author's  creation,  who  assume  a 
reality  to  the  mind  rarely  possessed  by  the  children  of  the  brain,  and  to  scenes 
so  vividly  depicted,  that  one  feels  as  if  walking  with  the  hero  along  the  marble 
pavements  and  among  the  rose-bowers  of  the  Eastern  paradise.  The  descrip- 
tion is  rich,  sensuous,  Oriental.  Characters  are  drawn  with  sharp,  clear  indi- 
viduality, and  the  interest  awakened  in  them  is  sure  to  be  retained.  Indeed, 
'  The  Fall  of  Damascus '  is 

A  BOOK  HARD  TO  PUT  DOWN,  ONCE  TAKEN  UP, 

till  the  covers  close  on  its  last  page.  The  style  is  clear,  pure,  and  direct,  the 
use  of  language  unexceptionable,  and  the  dramatic  spirit  more  than  ordinarily 
marked."  —  Boston  Post. 


THIS  IS  A  STORY  OF  RARE  BEAUTY. 

"  It  has  received  the  highest  praise  from  literary  reviewers,  and  will  evidently 
take  rank  with  the  best  class  of  fiction.  Those  who  delight  in  something  to 
read  that  is  elevated  above  the  trashy  novel  of  the  day  should  invest"  — 
Nashua  Telegraph. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD,  Publishers   -   -   -   Boston. 


Voyage  of  the  Paper  Canoe; 

A  Geographical  Journey  of  2,500  Miles,  from  Quebec 
to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico, 

BY  NATHANIEL  H.  BISHOP, 

Author  of  "A  Thousand  Miles'  Walk  across  South  America"    Embellished  with 
spirited  illustrations,  and  ten  maps  of  the  route. 

8vo.    CLOTH,  $2.50. 


"  A  fascinating  narrative  of  a  very  venturesome  journey.  In  following 
his  adventures  during  this  unique  and  daring  voyage,  we  have  found 
the  province  of  the  reviewer  quite  lost  in  the  pleasure  of  perusal.  Geo- 
graphical observations  and  bits  of  science  and  history  add  to  the  value 
of  the  volume ;  and  incidents,  amusing  or  thrilling,  colloquies  with 
'  crackers '  and  negroes,  and  glimpses  of  Southern  life  and  character 
among  the  high  and  the  low,  enhance  the  interest  of  the  narrative,  and 
lend  it  life  and  piquancy.  The  story  of  fictitious  travels  and  adventures 
could  hardly  be  more  exciting,  or  hold  the  reader's  attention  more 
closely,  while  the  knowledge  that  the  whole  narrative  is  the  transcript 
of  actual  experience  deepens  the  interest.  The  author's  style  is  modest, 
direct,  and  fluent.  There  is  no  attempt  at  fine  writing,  but  the  story  is 
exceedingly  well  told.  There  are  a  dozen  or  more  wood-engravings, 
illustrating  the  most  noteworthy  incidents  of  the  trip.  There  are,  in 
addition,  ten  maps,  showing  the  minutest  details  of  the  journey,  from 
beginning  to  end.  These  have  been  made  for  the  author  by  the  United- 
States  Coast-Survey  Bureau,  and  are  probably  the  most  complete  and 
accurate  maps  of  the  Atlantic  coast  anywhere  obtainable.  They  are 
engraved  with  exquisite  delicacy."  —  Boston  Journal. 


"  The  perils  encountered  by  the  author  are  related  with  a  charming 
modesty,  but  are  of  thrilling  interest.  The  '  Voyage  of  the  Paper 
Canoe  is  suited  to  all  classes  of  readers.  The  scientific  man  will  find 
many  interesting  facts ;  the  geographical,  the  only  complete  account  of 
the  interior  coast-water  route  ever  published ;  the  naturalist,  various 
items  of  interest ;  the  student  of  character,  new  and  peculiar  types ;  the 
canoeist,  a  true  and  faithful  guide  from  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence  to  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico."  —  Sunday  Herald. 


Sold  by  all  Booksellers  and  Newsdealers,  and  sent  by  mail,  post- 
paid, on  receipt  of  price.   . 

LEE   &   SHEPARD,   Publishers,   Boston. 


FROM  HAND  TO  MOUTH, 

BY 

MISS  A.  M.  DOUGLAS, 

AUTHOR  OF 

IN  TRUST,         STEPHEN  DANE,          NELLY  KINNARD'S  KINGDOM, 

CLAUDIA,  SYDNIE  ADRIANCE,          HOME  NOOK, 

KATHIE  STORIES,  ETC. 

13m.o.      Cloth.      $1.5O. 


"This  volume,  like  all  the  works  of  this  author,  is  well  written  and 
intensely  interesting,  though  there  is  nothing  sensational  or  strained  in 
the  plot,  scenes,  or  characters.  It  is  a  story  of  homely,  evcry-duy  life, 
just  such  as  any  of  us  may  have  seen ;  and  herein  lies  without  doubt 
no  little  of  the  charm  with  which  the  gifted  author  has  invested  her 
story.  It  is  a  book  that  will  be  popular,  and  will  survive  the  passing 
hour.  —  Bridgeport  Farmer. 

"  Another  of  Miss  DOUGLAS'S  pure  and  sensible  stories,  fully  equal 
to  '  Nelly  Kinnard's  Kingdom,'  to  say  which  is  no  slight  praise.  We 
know  of  no  American  author  who  excels  Miss  Douglas  in  her  partic- 
ular line,  —  stories  of  every-day  American  home-life.  We  are  glad  to 
learn  that  the  sale  of  her  books  is  steadily  on  the  increase.  This  fact 
shows  that  she  is  appreciated,  and  speaks  well  for  the  taste  of  our 
story-reading  public.  —  Christian  Leader. 


"The  charm  of  the  story  is  the  perfectly  natural  and  homelike  air 
which  pervades  it.  The  voung  ladies  are  not  stilted  and  shown  off  in 
their  'company  manners/but  are  just  jolly  home-girls,  such  as  we  like 
to  find,  and  can  find  any  day.  There  is  real  satisfaction  in  reading  this 
book,  from  the  fact  that  we  can  so  readily  '  take  it  home '  to  our- 
selves. —  Portland  Argus,  

"Amanda  Douglas  is  one  of  the  favorite  authors  among  American 
novel-readers.  She  writes  in  a  free,  fresh,  and  natural  way,  ami  her 
characters  are  never  overdrawn." — Manchester  Mirror. 


SOLD   BY   ALL   BOOKSELLERS  AND   NEWS-DEALERS. 

LEE    &    SHEPARD,    PUBLISHERS, 

BOSTON- 


SEOLA. 

A   ROMANCE   BY  AN   ANONYMOUS   AUTHOR. 
i6mo.     Cloth.    $1.50. 


The  "Boston   Transcript"  says:  — 

"Will  attract  a  multitude  of  readers,  and  shows  great  power  of 
imagination." 

The  "Boston  Traveller"  devotes  a  column  to  a  notice  of  it, 
and  says :  — 

" '  SEOLA'  must  make  a  mark  in  the  literary  world.  It  stands  out 
simple  and  single  in  its  character;  and  it  must  be  a  very  dull,  apathetic, 
and  unimpassioned  reader,  who  is  unable  to  find  within  its  pages  that 
which  will  surprise,  affect  deeply,  and  gratify." 

The  "Boston  Journal"  says:  — 

"  There  are  none  of  the  staple  incidents  and  catastrophes  of  the  tra- 
ditional novel,  nothing  of  social  intrigue,  drawing-room  chatter,  or 
conventional  love-making ;  but,  redolent  with  the  atmosphere  of  the 
Orient,  it  has  all  the  fascination  of  a  fantastic  and  beautiful  dream." 

The  " Danbury  News"  says:  — 

"  The  strangeness  and  the  magnitude  of  the  machinery  of  the  tale 
are  very  impressive,  and  enchain  the  attention  till  the  end  of  the  story 
is  reached." 

The  "New-York  Herald"  says:  — 

"Made  so  interesting  that  one  reads  the  book  through  without 
pause." 

The  "Home  Journal"  says:  — 

"  It  will  be  perused  by  cultivated  readers  with  lively  interest.  The 
work  is  written,  it  is  evident,  by  an  accomplished  scholar ;  and  the 
style  is  one  of  perfect  purity  and  refinement.  The  character  of 
'  SEOLA  '  is  drawn  with  exquisite  beauty." 


SOLD   BY  ALL   BOOKSELLERS   AND   NEWS-DEALERS. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD,  PUBLISHERS, 

ZBOSTO2ST. 


•• 


